A Man Worth a Legend
by CaileeChaos
Summary: Forrest Bondurant wasn't always so infamously feared. There was a time when Forrest was just another country boy working his daddy's farm and courting a sweet girl named Ellie May. Then the Spanish Lady Flu swept through, killing half of Forrest's family and bringing the Prohibition Era with it. That's when things began to change and Forrest Bondurant became a man worth a legend.
1. Chapter 1

**A major fan of both Tom Hardy and Shia LeBouf, I flipped when I saw the trailer for **_Lawless_**. I went to see the film the day it opened and instantly fell in love with this story. I absolutely adore Tom's character Forrest Bondurant and have become a bit obsessed. I've now seen the movie three times and have read the book by Jack's grandson Matt Bondurant that inspired this whole thing. **

**While reading the book and watching the movie I had one question that neither answered, "Just how the hell did Forrest Bondurant get so tough?" It is hinted that the loss of his family to the Spanish Lady Flu is what hardened Forrest but there had to be more to it. Since I couldn't figure it out, I decided to write it. **

**This is merely a prologue to what I hope will be a tale as gripping as the real one. A lot of what happens in taken straight from the book with a bit of my own flare. I sincerely hope you enjoy. **

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Prologue: 

Growin' up in Blackwater Creek you bound to hear a lotta things 'bout them Bondurant boys. Things like, "They invincible, so don't bother tryin' to kill 'em." Or things like, "Forrest Bondurant ain't to be messed with." But the thing 'bout small towns is while they sure like gossipin', they like keepin' secrets more. Few know what made Forrest Bondurant so tough, so ruthless. Them folks that do know also know better than to share. Lucky for you all, Forrest and I happ'n to be buddies – well, as good as buddies can get where Forrest is concerned. And Forrest done gave me permission to hell his story, the real one. The story before he married Maggie Beauford, before Special Deputy Rakes was shot, before the Great Franklin County Moonshine Conspiracy. Naw, this story happened long before all that shit.

This is the story of how Forrest Bondurant became a man worth a legend.

Be prepared y'all. You 'bout to see a side of Forrest the likes a'which you ain't never seen before.

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**Note: The prologue is meant to be read as if an old man with yellow, tobacco stained teeth, dirty hair, and holes in his coveralls is speaking to you, the lovely readers. However, the rest of the story will not be in written with this backwater language. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Let me go ahead and say thank you to the following: **annechou59, Guest,** and** jenny. **Thank you three for your lovely reviews. It is very much so appreciated! Also, thank you to: **annechou59, h sloanx16, HaleeYes, Heartless-Princess33, Kay1104, lydiadavida,** and** xxxLovely Insanityxxx, **for favoriting and/or following**. **Thank you all so much for giving this story a chance with what little was posted yesterday. **

**With that being said, here is the first chapter. I hope you enjoy. **

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Chapter One:

The first time Forrest Bondurant touched a naked woman he was fifteen years old. He was exhausted from working all day in his family's snow-covered tobacco field trying to make sure the seeds lasted through the winter. Trudging inside to wash up before supper, he was temporarily blinded by the headlights of his father's ancient Ford truck as it sped up the drive. His father was just about to crash head-on into the front porch of their home when the tires came screeching to a halt, slinging snow this a'way and that. Granville Bondurant leapt from the truck yelling for his son. There was a girl in the passenger seat, Granville said, and she was about dead.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" asked Jack, the youngest Bondurant boy, as he emerged from the house with his best friend Cricket Pate in tow.

"Jack, get your momma. Tell her I got Earl Davis's daughter and she's hurt real bad," their father instructed, his words quick and concise. "Forrest, help me get her inside."

Though his life from this point on would be filled with horrible, gruesome sights - mangled bodies, both dead and alive - Forrest had yet to see something quite this awful in his first fifteen years of life. The girl was unconscious, slumped against the truck's worn leather seat and her thin hair was matted, dirty, and clinging to her forehead. She was obviously naked, his father's jacket draped over her shivering body. Nasty bruises, molted purple and blue, spotted her skin; bruises in the shape of rough hands as they grabbed and squeezed her sensitive flesh. There was a gash cut clear across her left cheek and scrapes covered her legs, particularly at the knees. She was growing paler by the second and if the blue tint to her lips was any indication, a few more minutes out in the snow and she would freeze to death.

There was no time to worry about modesty so Forrest scooped the naked girl into his arms as gently as he could and carried her inside. He took her to Howard's room, a room that had been left untouched since his older brother enlisted. His mother had already turned down the blankets and stood waiting, a warm wash cloth in hand. Forrest's older sister Belva stood at her side.

"We need to warm her up and clean these wounds," Dorothy Bondurant ordered. She hovered as Forrest placed the girl on the bed and went immediately to the gash on her face. As she wiped away the dried blood tears pooled in his mother's eyes. She spoke, her voice a whisper, "My God, how could someone do this to their own child?"

"Her daddy did that?" asked Jack, frozen in the doorway. Their older sister Era stood behind Jack, her hand on the young boy's shoulders to hold him back. Cricket was hiding in the folds of Era's skirt, his lips quivering. Though he had three years on Jack, Cricket was a sensitive boy with a gentle disposition, and he didn't take things like this very well.

"Cricket, you best be gettin' on home, son," their father demanded. "Era, drive him home. Take Jack and Emmy with you."

"Yes, sir," Era nodded as Forrest pushed the two younger boys out of the room. Jack rubbed the spot on his chest where his brother had shoved him. His lips curled pitifully, "Ow. You ain't got to be so rough, Forrest."

"Shut up, Jack, and go on." Forrest hauled two of his grandmother's quilts out of the hall cupboard intending to bundle the girl up, but when he reentered his brother's room he was struck, paralyzed by the sight of her. His father's jacket had been tossed aside so his mother and sister could wash her down properly. She was completely exposed. Swollen red and pink welts covered her stomach and sides. There were two large hand prints on either side of her pelvis, dribbles of dried blood caking the insides of her legs, particularly on her upper thighs. The sight made Forrest's stomach churn painfully. There was just something plan wrong about what he was seeing.

"Forrest," his momma snapped. "Quite staring and do something useful. Go make some soup. Poor child's gonna be starving when she wakes up."

Forrest did as his mother said. He heated up a can of Campbell's vegetable and beef soup – his father's favorite – and left it simmering on the gas stove. Then, since his mother was preoccupied, Forrest went about preparing supper for his family. The fried steak was all but done when Era, Jack, and Emmy returned from taking Cricket home. About that same time, their parents and Belva emerged from Howard's room, closing the door behind them. They ate supper in near silence.

"How come her daddy did that to her?" asked Jack later that night when he and Forrest climbed into the rope bed they shared. To this Forrest replied that Jack was too young and that he'd tell him later, when he was older. But Jack persisted and Forrest struggled to find the right words. His older brother was quiet for a moment before turning to face him in the dark. The windows were tacked over with old quilts for the cold and there was no light but Jack could feel his brother's eyes on him. "Some men," said Forrest quietly. "Are born good, some born bad, and others born worse. Guess her daddy was one of the worse-borns."

"We're good-borns, aren't we?"

Forrest chuckled. He slung an around over his little brother's chest, hoping to comfort and silence the young boy. "Yeah, Jack, we're good." Jack fell asleep with a quickness Forrest envied. His body was exhausted, his muscles tense and aching from laboring in the fields all day, but thoughts about Earl Davis's daughter burned inside him. He couldn't shake the image of her bloodied thighs, her slashed cheek, her bruised body. What had been done to her just didn't sit right with Forrest. She was a young girl unable to defend herself; moreover, she was the man's own daughter. _What kind of a sack-of-shit coward does that,_ thought Forrest. The more he thought on it the angrier he got and Forrest was thankful he could feel Jack's heart beating steady under his arm. The constant rhythm gave him focus and helped him keep the anger locked away.

Eventually morning came and Forrest hadn't slept a wink. This wasn't something unusual. Forrest had a habit of thinking his way through the night, unable to force his mind to rest. Much to the protest of his body, Forrest scrambled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. His mother and father were seated at the table, Belva fooling with a kettle on the stove. Forrest paused in the hall as he heard them speaking. "She needs a proper doctor," their mother said in a hushed tone. "I'm worried about her not being able to have children now."

"Why you say that?" asked their father. The corners of their mother's mouth were pulled down, her watery eyes narrowed, "There was so much blood, Gran…a women don't bleed like that unless something is terribly, terribly wrong. He probably tore somethin'. Belva, tell him what happened."

Forrest's eldest sister had stayed through the night with the girl, watching her and keeping her warm. Belva turned from the stove, her hands shaking. "Daddy," she groaned. "She tried turning over in her sleep and when she brought her legs together s-she cried out. This awful, strangled noise. Sounded l-like a cat dying. That was when I noticed she'd started bleeding again."

"Not to mention," his mother added. "The fact that her leg looks just about as bad as Cricket's. The sorry bastard probably broke her ankle."

His father sighed and ran fingers through his graying hair. "I'll go down to the store, giving Henry a call. See if I can't get him to stop by."

Their conversation came to a standstill and Forrest figured it was probably a good time to make his presence known. He stepped into the kitchen and drew up to the table. His father looked at him. "I know I told you to get them fields taken care of but I want you to stay close to the house today, you hear? We're gonna call in a doctor for the girl. It won't take long for word to spread that she's here and if Earl gets any ideas about swinging by I'll need you."

"Yes, sir," said Forrest, and that was that.

The girl woke up around noon, disoriented and frightened. Belva was in the room when she came to, having just applied more of their mother's home remedy to the cut on her cheek. Belva instantly fetched their parents. Their father entered the room first, slow and unthreatening, "My name is Granville Bondurant, that there was my daughter Belva, and this here's my wife, Dorothy. You remember me?" Living in a town like Blackwater Creek, everybody kinda knew everybody back then. The girl nodded wordlessly and their father briefly explained how she'd wound up there. Said he'd found her lying on the side of the road about a mile down the mountain from her father's house, naked and beaten. At his words the girl blushed in embarrassment, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Are you hungry? I know you've got to be thirsty," their mother said. She sent Belva to fetch some water and heat up the soup Forrest had prepared last night. They let her eat in peace, giving her time to compose herself. When she was through, their father excused himself on the pretense of needing a cup of coffee. This seemed to signify that playtime was over and it was time to 'fess up. The girl shifted tensely beneath the many quilts on Howard's bed. Gritting her teeth in pain, she settled and swallowed, "Thank you. For…well, for taking me in and…and for the clothes and the food."

Last night they'd put her in one of Era's old night gowns, a hand-me-down from Belva. Their mother nodded, "Of course, darlin'. Now, I know you might not want to talk about it, but I need you to tell me what happened. But we can start off slow. How 'bout you tell me your name first?"

"I'm Ellie May."

"Ellie May, does your daddy hit you often?"

The girl's jaw tensed despite the soreness and she looked away, over their mother's shoulders to the bedroom door that was slightly ajar. Through the thin crack she saw a colossal boy. He was probably about her age, built thick about the chest with broad shoulders and dark hair. His stature was frightening but when he turned and caught her staring there was no fear in Ellie May. The boy's face was too kind, the lines of his eyes too gentle. Turning back to the woman, Ellie May sighed. "My momma died three years ago in childbirth along with my baby brother. My daddy didn't handle it so well. He's taken to drinking now and sometimes he gets a little hard to handle, is all."

The woman nodded thoughtfully. "He only hits you when he's been drinking, mhmm?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And what about takin' advantage of you? He save that for when he's drinking, too?"

A sharp pain laced Ellie May's heart. Half of her wanted to pretend like it hadn't happened, like she'd dreamt that part, that he'd only hit her as usual. But then, the pain was so real. She could feel the desperate ache in her hips, her belly. She could feel the rips and tears of intrusion where her womanhood had been violently taken from her by her own father. For a moment, Ellie May fought to breathe. "No, ma'am," she finally murmured, her voice like a whisper. "That was the first time."

The woman's frown deepened. "I see. Just how did you end up on the side of the road?"

"He kicked me out…he does that sometimes when he wants to be alone. Usually I go down the mountain to this old deer stand and hide out there until he blows over. But I could barely walk for my ankle hurting so bad. I think I tripped in the snow and fell down a ditch. I don't rightly remember."

"Have you ever spoken to anyone about this?" When Ellie May shook her head, the woman continued, "You ever thought about goin' to the police?"

"What would they do? They'd lock him up for a few weeks, then he'd be back and I'd only be in for worse. Or they'd try and take me away. Only I've got nowhere to go. I have no other family. I'd be shipped off to some girl's home up north, sent to work in some factory or sweat shop. At least here I have friends and I can go to school, try and get an education to get outta here one day."

The young girl's bitter words touched a part of Dorothy Bondurant's soul. The child couldn't have been more than fourteen and yet she spoke with a harsh acceptance of reality. In truth, she was right. There wasn't much Sheriff Hodges could do, especially if it was Earl's word against the girl's. They had no proof. Her husband didn't see Earl lay a finger on his daughter and, despite the man's reputation as one of the sorriest men in town, the words of a woman, particularly a young one, didn't do much in a court of law. Realizing that there was in fact little to be done, Dorothy shifted in the rocking chair beside Howard's bed. "Well, we called a doctor to come and have a look at you. He should be here a little after two. If you're still hungry we can fix you up something a bit heartier than soup. You cold?"

"No, ma'am. I'm fine, thank you," Ellie May replied. Crossing her arms over her chest, she wanted desperately to be alone. The utter humiliation she felt was overwhelming. That paired with the physical pain of the previous night's events was darn near unbearable.

"Alright. Then I suppose I'll leave you to rest. If you need anything just holler. I'll be here in the kitchen."

Ellie May tried to get back to sleep but the bone-deep aching of her body kept her awake. She laid in agony for what felt like hours. When the door opened, she assumed it was the doctor. Shifting, she attempted to sit up.

"You probably shouldn't do that," said a man's voice. The advice was light on his tongue and said almost as if it were an afterthought. Ellie May eyed the boy she'd seen standing in the kitchen. He was even bigger up close. She swallowed, "You're Forrest, aren't you? We went to school together two years ago but you quit coming."

Forrest nodded, "That's right."

"What're you doing?"

Forrest paused. What was he doing? He didn't rightly know. His father had told him to stay close to the house so he'd been playing with Jack and Emmy all morning, rolling around with the two youngest Bondurants in the family room. But ever since he'd heard Belva tell their parents the girl'd woken up, his curiosity had been eating away at him. Forrest said nothing but found himself sitting down in the rocking chair. The floor squeaked as the chair moved back and forth, back and forth. The girl, Ellie May was her name, stared at him, one eyebrow raised. But still he gave no answer. "You were good at English."

"Pardon me?"

"In school," Forrest clarified. "You always raised your hand when Mrs. McCullers asked for volunteers for grammar work and you liked reading to the class."

Ellie May's cheeks flushed. She licked her chapped lips, the tip of her tongue gently scrapping her busted bottom lip. The iron taste of her own blood was unmistakable. "You're good with numbers and equations," she fired back. "When Mrs. McCullers sent you to the board you never missed a question."

The teenagers gazed at one another, impressed at their shared observational skills. For a while they sat in a content silence, each sizing the other up. Forrest reckoned the girl could have been beautiful if she'd been fed properly and didn't have as many bruises as he did freckles. Ellie May figured he was handsome when he bathed and combed his hair. All of a sudden, the door opened further and their encounter was brought to an abrupt end. "Forrest," his mother chided. "What are you doing? Get out of here. Go!"

Forrest stood, his gaze never leaving Ellie May, and strode out of the room, his mother slapping the back of his head as he went. The woman closed the door behind her son, introducing Ellie May to the doctor, a Mr. Henry Cobbs. The physical examination was brief and awkward. Ellie May got a sense that the doctor was just as uncomfortable as she was. He commended Dorothy Bondurant for her work on Ellie May's scrapes and cuts, told Ellie May that'd she'd been in good hands. The doc also confirmed that her ankle was in fact broken. Or perhaps it was merely a bad fracture, he had frowned. "Either way, we'll need to splint it. You'll to put up with crutches for a few days."

They took her in to Rocky Mount where Dr. Cobbs splinted and wrapped her ankle at the small hospital, the only one around for nearly a hundred miles. Once there he also did a further inspection of her body. From what he could see, none of the damage done to Ellie May wouldn't heal on its' own. "So you think she can still have kids, Henry?" asked Granville Bondurant, who had gone with the girl and the doctor to town.

Dr. Cobbs nodded, "As of now, yes. I'd like you to come back in a few weeks, Miss Davis, so I can take another look at you, make sure everything's healing accordingly. Plus, I'll need to check on that ankle. I'm going to give you some medicine for the pain right now, but that's about all I can do."

Once Ellie May was bandaged and given a shot of morphine, there was little else to be done. Granville drove her back to his farm where they sat in his truck for what seemed like an eternity to Ellie May. She glanced at the old man, followed his gaze out the truck window to where two of his children sat on the front porch playing with a deck of cards. "As a father," he began slowly. "I find it hard to understand how your daddy did what he done…but drinking does things to a man, changes him. You're in a tricky situation here, Miss Ellie May. How you handle this is up to you. Just know, should you ever need anywhere to go, we don't lock the front door." And there was nothing more to be said.

Granville and Forrest drove her home later that evening after she'd had more time to rest. Forrest waited with her in the truck while his father knocked on the door of her once-beautiful country home. When her mother died, Ellie May's father let the place fall to ruin. Now it was little more than a shack. Her father answered the door many moments later, his eyes droopy and bloodshot. When Earl saw his daughter, he took a step down the porch but Granville blocked his path. The men talked in low tones, her father's words still a bit slurred.

"Why did you stop coming to school?" Ellie May asked Forrest, attempting to divert her attention from their fathers.

Forrest was also keeping a watchful eye on the men, waiting for the moment when her father stepped over the line and he would need to come to his father's aid. But there was no reason to let the girl know he expected this would come to blows. "My brother Howard went to war. I had to replace him in the field, pick up the work he'd been doing on the farm."

"Have you heard from him since he left?"

Forrest's brow drew together. "No."

"Do you know where he is stationed?"

"Momma thinks England, but we don't know for sure." The exchange between their fathers seemed to be drawing to a close and when his father nodded to him, Forrest's chest tightened. This wasn't right. They shouldn't leave her here. How long would it be before he hurt her again? Would it be a month? A week? Or would he strike her again the moment their truck pulled down the mountain?

He helped her from the truck, lifting the crutches Doc Cobbs had made her from the back. "You got it?" Ellie May nodded, wincing in pain, and Forrest was suddenly very anxious. He thought of saying something, of offering a smile, but instead he walked her to the porch and watched her disappear inside. His father turned to leave but Forrest was rooted to the spot. Granville clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, "C'mon, Forrest, there ain't nothing we can do about it."

Earl Davis lingered in the open doorway as the Bondurants returned to their truck. As they pulled away, Forrest glared at Ellie May's pathetic excuse of a father. According to Granville there was nothing they could do. Looking at the so-called man who'd raped and beaten his only daughter, all Forrest could think of were things to do. Horrible, God awful things. Oh, there were plenty of things they could do alright.

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Annechou59** asked if the book was as good as the movie. The book is better. While John Hillcoat did an amazing job with the film, as is the situation with any book-to-movie, a lot was left out. There is so much more to the story that the film just didn't have time to say. You learn a lot more about the characters, particularly Forrest and Howard. And what is very unique about this story is that it's real. Though it says 'based on a true story,' Matt wrote the book after talking for hours with his grandpa Jack and his granduncles. These are stories he heard as a young man, truths about his family's history, and it's just fantastic to read. **

**So check out the book! Cause it's wonderful and any fan of the movie will really enjoy it. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Spoilers! To those of you who plan on reading the book, let me apologize now. As previously stated, I'm taking a lot from the book, drawing greatly from the bits and pieces not covered in the movie. I really enjoy Matt Bondurant's lyrical quality and I'm really trying to shape the flow of the story in his style. Of course, I'm manipulating the scenes greatly to fight my version of the story, but I'm sorry for all the spoilers. **

**Thank you again to everyone who's reading and reviewing. Your encouraging words are always welcomed and loved. **

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Chapter Two:

Two weeks passed and Forrest had neither seen nor heard a word about Ellie May Davis. And damn if he hadn't been keeping an ear out. Every spare moment Forrest had was spent lurking around his father's general store, eavesdropping on the five or six men who often gathered around the potbellied stove in the store's front to strike up conversations about the weather and crop failure that year. When it became obvious these men would be of no help, Forrest snuck away into town. He'd slow his gait on the dirt sidewalk as he passed giggling school girls discussing the latest dresses in the Sears catalog. He'd linger at the water fountain, eyeing the street for any sign of the petite brunette who'd been haunting his every thought. But it was to no avail, another week had passed and nothing.

Forrest drove in to Rocky Mouth early one morning. An order of fertilizer had come in at the feed store and his father sent Forrest to fetch it. They bought a dozen bundles, about forty pounds each, and it took Forrest the better part of an hour to load the order. Heaving the last sack over his shoulder, Forrest tossed the fertilizer into the truck bed and heaved a sigh. He snagged the rope from the cab and was tying down the bundles when he saw her. After three weeks of practically hunting the woman down, he'd finally found her and it was on accident.

A frown wormed its way onto his lips as he realized she was heading for the hospital_. I should go home_, thought Forrest. _Ain't none of my business. Go home, Forrest. Leave her alone. I shoul- Aw, hell, what would it hurt?_

Ellie May didn't look all that surprised to see Forrest stomping down the hospital corridor, his thundering footfalls heavy on the ancient floorboards. When he reached her room, he stood there awkwardly and, albeit, somewhat abashedly. It was Doc Cobbs that spoke first, "Forrest, can I help you?"

"Uhh," he grumbled, thrusting his hands into his pockets. Ambling a few steps closer, he spoke to Ellie May, "I saw you walkin' in here."

"I know," she said simply. "I saw you at the feed store."

"Did you walk all the way here?"

She nodded, wincing as the doctor rotated and stretched her ankle. The splint had been removed and Forrest realized she'd walked all this way on a bad ankle, and in the snow no less. "What happened to the crutches?"

"Got off'em last week."

"Mhmm," murmured Forrest. "Alright…well, come outside when y'all finish up and I'll give you a ride home."

"You don't have t-" began Ellie May but the Bondurant boy had already turned on his heel and marched out. Ellie May frowned as Dr. Cobbs gave a quiet chuckle, "Might as well do as he says. The Bondurants are a stubborn bunch."

Twenty minutes later Ellie May walked out of the hospital and found Forrest sitting on the front steps. As she descended the stairs, Forrest stood but said nothing, walking ahead to open the truck door for her. They drove north towards Blackwater Creek, the truck weighed down by nearly five hundred pounds of fertilizer as Forrest navigated the winding dirt roads. As they drove the roar of the engine was deafening. The noise was about to drive Ellie May mad. She crossed her hands in her lap and cleared her throat, "Dr. Cobbs said my ankle has completely healed already."

Forrest glanced at her, slightly startled by the sudden sound of her voice. He eyed the faint scar running across her left cheek, the only remaining trace of her father's brutal attack. When he said nothing, Ellie May continued, "You know I was perfectly fine walking, but I appreciate the ride."

"You shouldn't have walked all this way. It's nearly fifteen miles to Rocky Mount from our farm. Even further from yours," chided Forrest. He surprised himself. He didn't usually get on to other people, except Jack. He figured it wasn't his place; he wasn't anybody's father. But he reckoned she needed to hear it.

"I didn't have a lot of other choices," snapped Ellie May in response. The venom in her voice was unmistakable and Forrest knew he'd crossed a line. It wasn't exactly a secret around town that her father had sold their only truck four months back to buy pay off a gambling debt. They had no horses, no other way of transportation. Why hadn't he remembered that? He thought about apologizing but kept quiet as usual. Again the intense rumbling of the engine was the only sound and Forrest found himself continually stealing glances at the small girl only a few inches away from him.

"Do you like the radio?"

"What?"

"Radio. You like listening to it?"

Ellie May's brows drew together. "Doesn't everybody?"

"Guess so," he mumbled, flicking on the truck's radio. The truck only picked up one station – a sports broadcasting out of Richmond that usually covered baseball games but occasionally played music or gave the news. The station came in clear enough with only bits of static here and there. At the moment, Irving Berlin's "You'd Be Surprised" occupied the station. Forrest didn't much like music from the city; he preferred the country sounds, banjos and mandolins, but Ellie May seemed to enjoy it. Her slender fingers tapped on the truck door, her foot jiggling in the floor.

Out the corner of her eye Ellie May saw Forrest grinning at her. "What?" she asked. But as usual, the Bondurant boy ignored her question, eyes steady on the road ahead. Pursing her lips, Ellie May peered out the window, watching the chestnut trees blur as they sped by. Occasionally, she'd spot a deer or a rabbit, but mostly the woods were clear, animals burrowing in for the winter.

Neither of the teenagers spoke for the rest of the ride and soon her house appeared along the horizon, easily seen through the barren trees. Forrest's gaze narrowed when he threw the truck into park. His jaw stiffened, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He scanned the property, looking in the windows, searching the yard. He almost asked if her father was home, but Forrest knew the answer would only agitate his anger. If he wasn't home, that meant he was out drinking and being a no'count shit. And something told Forrest if she said, "Yes, my father is home," Forrest wouldn't have been able to stop himself from climbing that porch and giving Earl Davis a piece of his mind. Or his fist. Hell, maybe he'd be generous and give him both.

Ellie May thanked him quietly for the ride once again, her hand still above the door handle. She looked anxious, as if she were waiting for him to speak; but ole Forrest merely dipped his head and gave a quick smile that looked more like a grimace. And then she was gone. He waited for a while in the drive, staring up at the ramshackle house as if hoping her father would appear and beg for a lesson on how to treat his daughter. It wasn't until a light snow began to fall that he brought the truck back to life and returned down the mountain. Halfway home blizzard force winds began to brew. He debated on whether or not to stop and put snow chains on the tires. But the little, white flakes swirled around him making the world go white. It would been nearly impossible trying to line up the chains to the tires if he couldn't see, so Forrest had to chug it on home going about two damn miles an hour.

Forrest unloaded the fertilizer round the back of the yard. By the time the truck bed was empty his fingers and nose were numb, his teeth damn near chattering. "Hey, Forrest, where ya been?" asked Jack the moment he walked in the door. Forrest said nothing, heading straight for the stove in the family room. His father sat in his chair bouncing his little sister Emmy on his lap. Belva and Era were sitting on the course rug in front of the stove, conspiring, laughing, and speaking their own language. Spotting their brother, the girls scooted to the side to allow him to get closer to the stove and warm up.

"Forrest," his father greeted, his bouncing knee coming to a stop. Emmy swayed precariously on his lap, reaching out to grab his hands and steady herself. "Did'ja get the load?"

"Yes, sir."

"What took you so long? You've been gone for hours," asked Era, giggling. "We were beginning to think you got lost."

"I ran into Ellie May Davis," he said, speaking more so to their father than to Era. "She was seeing the doc."

"How is she?" Belva asked. Forrest lifted a shoulder, "Ankle's better…her face has scarred."

Belva frowned, "She was so pretty, too."

"I wonder if she's coming to the Mitchell's place Friday," pondered Era. Era was referring to Liam and Stella Mitchell, a couple that had moved to the Blackwater area six years ago. Every summer they'd freeze their stock of corn and hold a corn shucking picnic right before Thanksgiving. Jack, who'd trailed into the room after Forrest, plopped down on the couch, "What's Friday?"

"The Mitchell's shucking," answered Belva offhandedly. This, of course, was a mistake, as the Bondurants were forced to sit through another one of Jack's episodes. Often the youngest Bondurant boy was left out, as he was not yet old enough to tag along with his siblings. This fact did not sit over well with Jack and he usually threw a tantrum; a tantrum that usually ended up in a good whooping.

"Give it a rest, Jack," their mother advised, sweeping into the room. She set down a tray of hot chocolate and the Bondurants dove for the steaming mugs. As they gathered around the stove, Forrest thought about the shucking. Before the war, Howard and Forrest would often escort their sisters to such events but Forrest found it wasn't nearly as fun without his older brother. Yet, Forrest couldn't help but wonder if Ellie May would be there.

By the time their mugs were empty and their bellies warm, Forrest had all but convinced himself to go.

* * *

Belva, Era, and Forrest arrived at the Mitchell place as the sun was going pink on the horizon and the shucking was nearly complete. Men stood at a long table of sawhorses and planks, ripping through the corn and tossing the husks into cribs hammered together out of birch logs and old sheet metal. The afternoon was chilly and the air sweet with the smell of the knobby vegetable. The men were laughing and slapping bare arms as they shucked at top speed. The younger men, most of them around Forrest's age, stomped their heavy boots in the snow and sand "Old Phoebe," shouting the cadenced words in the direction of the house where the wives were preparing supper.

Just two years ago Forrest would have been among them, arm in arm, heaving his chest out and singing in his rough voice. But nowadays it just didn't seem quite the same. Besides, tonight he was on a mission. His sisters dove into the hoard of dancers, spinning and twirling with the best of 'em. Forrest stood against the barn wall with a few childhood colleagues, Tom Cundiff and the like. Talmedge Jamison and his buddies were there, picking at a few fiddles, working through "Billy in the New Ground" while people slapped their hands in time to the music. Forrest scanned the crowd. Beside him, Tom Cundiff kicked at a stray husk. "How ya been, Forrest?"

Forrest ignored the question, choosing to ask one of his own. "How's your paw?"

Tom's father had been diagnosed with diphtheria that fall. Doctors said he wasn't likely to make it through the winter. "Shit," Tom grinned. He spat at the ground, bits of chewing tobacco splattering on his boots. "Can't nothin' kill that old man. Just yesterday he was…"

Forrest was an excellent multi-tasker. He was able to hear every word out of Tom's mouth without really hearing him. Instead, he observed the farmers and their families, passive as ever. So far there was no sign of Ellie May but there was a steady stream of women trickling in and out of the barn. It was possible she was in the house, possible but not likely. But Forrest was a patient man, so he waited, leaning against the side of the barn while Tom and his pals talked shit.

There came a volley of shouts and cheers from the shucker's table. A man named Wingfield was holding up the sport, the red-colored ear that he'd shucked. It was the only one of the night and as tradition went, it meant he could kiss any one of the young woman he wanted. Wingfield was in his early twenties and he'd sometimes played together with Howard as kids down in Snow Creek. He had grown into a proud young man who talked with his hands and sported starched collars or brim hats. He had gone all the way through high school and on to the University of Virginia. Wingfield's family was originally from Shootin' Creek but when he'd returned from school he acted like he was merely visiting the backwater before assuming his rightful place among the first families of Virginia. Jamison and the other musicians took a break as Wingfield marched about the barn, holding the red-eared corn like a torch.

A short troop of men followed Wingfield, hooting and hollering. Belva stood in the corner with Emmy and a few of their friends. She was about Wingfield's age and as he passed, Belva giggled, pushing her hair back, and Forrest saw his sister light up with some kind of giddiness. As Wingfield came toward her, Forrest felt a flare of rage, but was relieved when the troop of singing men passed her by. Relieved, that was, until he saw the small quiver in Belva's cheeks, the way she took a breath and thrust out her chin, Era's comforting hand winding its way to her sister's shoulder. _Oh, Lord, Belva,_ thought Forrest, pity for his eldest sister swelling within him.

Forrest started toward her and there was a great roar from Wingfield's group; he had chosen a girl to kiss and the young people crowded in a circle to watch. Forrest said hello to the group of girls as he approached but they were too interested in whom Wingfield was kissing, up on their toes to see. Belva was not so interested, however, and smiled sadly at her little brother. Forrest, taller than anyone there, could see right into the circle where Wingfield held the arms of a short, brunette girl.

"Why, that's Ellie May," said Era suddenly and Forrest couldn't help but hiss underneath his breath, "_Son of a bitch_."

Forrest watched as Wingfield made a great display of it, gripping Ellie May by her elbows and ducking in a few times, making feints, drawing shouts from the crowd. Ellie May did not look pleased, the lines of her face tight with irritation. "Just do it, already. You're wasting my time," she quipped, eye brow raised. Wingfield paused, seemingly baffled by her utter lack of excitement. There was an awkward moment, the crowd growing quiet, but Wingfield hastily recovered and winked at the men next to him. He tucked his head in and kissed her firmly.

Rage, hot and molten like lava, flooded Forrest's veins. The Bondurant boy hadn't realized he'd stepped forward until Era wrapped her fingers around his wrist. When Wingfield backed away Ellie May's eyes blazed and he let go of her arms, stepping back, uncertain but determined to make a good show. Then the men bore Wingfield away and the girls clapped loudly, briefly crowding around Ellie May who ducked out the back of the barn. As she escaped, Forrest caught sight of her neck which was flamed red, the tips of her ears burning pink. There were no thoughts for Forrest, only instincts, as his feet carried him after her.

The barn lay in a sloping hollow of open pastures with a narrow creek running cross the south corner behind the barn. Cars and trucks filled the closest quarter of the pasture with a few horse carts courtesy of the Dunkards, the Amish folk from Burnt Chimney. Women leaned against car fenders with their arms crossed, looking at the men who stood in front of them, hands in pockets, rocking slightly in place. Other men perched on the hoods or tailgates and passed around a jar of stump whiskey, laughing and slapping one another with dusty hats. The night had cooled even more, a winter haze in the air. There was no moon out but plenty of starlight to see. It was a beautiful night.

Forrest followed Ellie May's footprints in the snow, passed the line of cars and down the slope to the stream. The young girl had brushed the snow off a large rock that jutted out from the earth beside the creek. Part of the mountain, Forrest guessed. She was shivering a bit, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the flowing water. "You're gonna freeze," declared Forrest as he approached. There he went again, chiding her like she wasn't grown.

"It got a bit hot in there."

"Wingfield's an ass."

The corners of her mouth tilted upward. "Who are you telling?"

Forrest peeled off his coat, a thin brown cardigan that was a hand-me-down from Howard. Without a word, he draped it over her shoulders. It wasn't much but Forrest figured it was better than nothing. She took it wordlessly, eyeing him like he'd grown another head. Forrest gestured the rock beside her. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go on."

Forrest dusted the snow off, his fingers growing cold instantly. When he sat down a jolt shot up his spine and he whistled low. Shit if that boulder wasn't cold. He blew a plume of steaming breath into the air, almost regretting handing over his sweater. Ellie May asked, "What are you doing out here, Forrest?"

"Came to sit with you," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She frowned. "Yeah, well, I got that, but why? Look, don't take this the wrong way. I appreciate what you and your family did for me, but I don't need a babysitter. It might not have seemed like it that night but I _can_ take care of myself."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," grinned Forrest before he could stop himself. The hellfire burning in her eyes when she'd glared at Wingfield was enough evidence of that.

"I'm serious, Forrest."

"So am I…I don't mean no harm, Ellie May. I just find you interesting, s'all."

"Interesting?" she repeated. "What in the hell do you find interesting?"

Forrest shrugged truthfully. "I don't rightly know. Reckon I'd try and figure it out."

"You're impossible." She rolled her eyes. Ellie May crossed her ankles, pulling Forrest's cardigan tighter around her. She shot him an incredulous look, "Think you can be quiet? I'd like a peaceful moment or two. You can stay if you're quiet. If not you best get up now and go. Either way, though, I'm keeping the sweater."

Once more, the Bondurant boy gave a lazy grin. He nodded, not speaking a word as if to prove his point.

Ellie May knew Forrest was only trying to be a gentleman. When he looked at her, he saw a little girl who needed lookin' after. Because his daddy had raised him to do the right thing, Forrest figured it was his responsibility to take care of her since no one else would. Ellie May wasn't clueless; she knew that was why he'd driven her home that day, why he'd followed her out here tonight. He was only doing what he thought was right. But she didn't require, nor did she desire, a handler. And damn if there just wasn't something about Forrest that made her manners vanish. Ellie May was never so blunt, so rude, but with Forrest it was practically a natural reflex.

She tried to study him discreetly. His face was impassive as he gazed at the water, the stream not quite frozen yet. He was hunched forward at an inward angle drawing his body close to conserve heat. He must've been freezing. She knew she was and here she'd taken his jacket. Pressing her arm to his for warmth, she fought the blush rising in her cheeks when he looked at her. There was something kind of beautiful about Forrest Bondurant. Maybe it was the way his lips were almost feminine, too large, too puckered. Or perhaps it was his eyes, the way they seemed to say more than his mouth ever would.

"We should head back before we freeze to death," advised Ellie May in a gentle whisper. Forrest nodded but neither moved. Ellie May found her eyes repeatedly taking fleeting glances at Forrest's lips. She briefly wished it had been Forrest who'd found the red-colored corn.

As if hearing her thoughts, Forrest leaned forward ever so slightly. If she turned her head to the right, her nose would brush his. His breath was warm on her cheek and she was drawn to the heat. Their cheeks grazed and Ellie May shivered, suddenly feeling faint. Was he ever going to kiss her?

"Aye! Forrest! S'hat you?!" The slurred shouting made Ellie May jump. She nearly went sliding off the rock into the river but Forrest caught her by the wrist and turned to holler, "Piss off, Tommy! Go home!"

Forrest looked at Ellie May. He knew whatever moment they'd had was gone. The young man wasn't sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved, so he settled for confused, standing and guiding Ellie May back up the creek bank. Forrest asked if she had a ride home. Ellie May replied that she'd come with a few girlfriends from school, but only after growling, "I just told you I don't need a babysitter!"

There were about half a dozen less vehicles in the pasture and the noise from the barn had quieted impressively. The sky ahead darkened and as they drew inside, Forrest tipped his hat to her. "I'll see you around, Ellie May."

The young girl gave an annoyed frown. "I'm sure you will, Forrest."

* * *

**Show of hands, how many of you would faint if Forrest Bondurant planted a kiss on you? **

**Yeah, me too. As always, I hope you enjoyed it! Be sure to leave me a review and let me know what you think! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Beware! This chapter's a bit sad but I'm a sucker for a happy ending, so don't worry. I think that's why I enjoyed **Lawless** so much. Throughout the film you have all these awful things happening and the characters you love getting hurt. But in spite of everything they go through, they have the happiest ending ever. Very surprising for such an intense movie. **

**As usual a round of applause to: **annechou59, . , jewelswriter, Kay1104, 1986, ozlady80, IHeartJensen, Superdani a.k.a Gillian Smith, country strong '89, Gaara-frenzy, Taci, Narrie, **and** savyleec. **You people are seriously awesome and never fail to bring a smile to my face. Thank you so much. **

**For those interested in the real story, the lovely **jewelswriter **suggests you check out **"The Great Moonshine Conspiracy Trail of 1935" **by T. Keister. I haven't read it myself but I've heard a lot of good reviews for it. Matt Bondurant refers to it several times and he used it to write his own novel. Sadly, though, as **jewelswriter **pointed out, the "Trail" book sort of takes away a lot of the mythical, holy-shit-those-dudes-were-badass ideals away from the story. Still, a good read so don't be afraid to check it out.**

* * *

Chapter Three

The Sunday service at Snow Creek Baptist had ran long as Reverend Talbot preached one of his favorite sermons – gratitude for the Lord's many blessings. It was the Sunday following Thanksgiving and the congregation had expected as much. The Reverend was typically long winded, anyhow. As the service drew to a close, Ellie May fidgeted in the church pew, her eyes downcast in humiliation. She felt the pointed stares, heard the hushed whispers. Women in the congregation spoke behind their King James, muttering about her busted lip and bruised face. She wanted desperately to bolt out of the pew. To run out of the church and seek refuge in the forest, only to eventually die of overwhelming embarrassment. But in the past, that had only made matters worse.

Ellie May was forced to remain seated and do what she did best – endure. Beside her, her father was slumped pathetically in the pew. He reeked of stale vomit and sweat. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, his hair disheveled. She didn't know why he even bothered coming to church.

When Reverend Talbot dismissed his flock, Ellie May waited as her father gathered his bearings. He grunted, rising with great difficulty, his legs wobbling beneath him. His daughter sighed. It was going to be a long walk home.

The Bondurant family huddled just outside the church doors. They stood in a large cluster with their neighbors, the Brodies, talking politely while the younger children ran around the adults, chasing one another and giggling merrily. Ellie May lowered her gaze to her feet as they passed. She trembled under the pressure of the burning gaze on her back. His stare bore into her, unrelenting, until she and her father reached the edge of the woods and were hidden by the clustering trees. Ellie May knew Forrest blamed himself for what happened. But really, it was her own fault.

See, after their strange encounter at the Mitchell place, Ellie May was determined to avoid the country boy. He was going to be nothing but trouble, and she knew it. As it was, Forrest quickly realized she was evading him and sought to thwart her efforts immediately.

Monday morning Forrest offered to drive Jack and Cricket to school, rather than make them walk, even if it meant he'd be an hour behind on his chores. There was only one school in Blackwater Creek. It was nestled in the watery brook where Snow Creek ran into Maggodee and stood encased in a half circle of giant chestnut trees. Forrest wasn't fooling anyone when he arrived with the boys Monday. Least of all Ellie May.

"Are you here to check on me?"

Forrest raised a brow. "Should I be? I thought you didn't need a babysitter. I was just here to drop off my brother and his friend."

Forrest returned again Tuesday expecting to be met with a fair share of anger from Ellie May. Instead, he found her waiting patiently for him outside the school house. But she was not waiting to see him; rather, she was merely returning his sweater, the one he'd lent her Friday night. When the school closed for the Thanksgiving holiday, Ellie May assumed she would get a small reprieve from Forrest's company. His recent preoccupation as her personal nuisance was draining. Her mental sky was perpetually clouded by distracting day dreams and puzzling thoughts about the insistent boy. Not seeing him for a few days would give her a chance to breathe again.

Thursday morning she snuck out early. Holidays were extremely hard for Earl Davis. They did nothing for him but resurrect feelings about his long gone wife. He usually started holidays off in a drunken rage, his anger merely progressing as the day went on. Ellie May had learned hurriedly the best way to deal with Earl on a holiday was to simply not be there at all. With a quilt under one arm and a picnic basket in the other, she set off for the deer stand. She spent the morning rotating between nibbling on the small Thanksgiving supper she'd prepared herself and napping. It was around noon when she woke to find the deer standing shaking. Fearing the worst, she cautiously peered down. Expecting to see her father, Ellie May couldn't help but feel thankful when she saw that it was only Forrest. She peered down at him in astonishment. "How did you find me?"

Forrest answered her question with a question, something she would come to realize that he did quite often. "Have you ever caught fireflies in a jar?"

"You came all the way up here to ask if I've ever caught fireflies? Bullshit, Forrest," she snapped.

Forrest said nothing. He stood, patient in the snow, his gaze as unwavering as ever. All of a sudden she was seething with anger. Ellie May abandoned her quilt and slid off the edge of the deer stand. She poked his chest roughly. "You've got to stop this. I'm serious! Do you think this is easy? Do you think I like being his personal target? Do you think I enjoy watching my father become a monster? I hate it! It's miserable and exhausting and it's only getting worse. It's hard enough trying to deal with this as is it but…but when other people start to…Forrest, I just can't. Please, you have to stop."

Ellie May had begun to cry as she spoke, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. She hastily wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. Shame swelled inside her. She hadn't meant to yell, nor had she meant to lose her composure. Ellie May hadn't cried since her mother died.

"No," she murmured quietly in answer to his question, a beat later. "I have never caught a firefly." The surrounding woods had stilled, the white world around them sinking into the late afternoon. Ellie May shivered, but not from the cold. Forrest pinned her with such an intense stare that she quivered, unable to meet his gaze. A flush rose to her skin. Embarrassed by her outburst, she pleaded, "Say something."

Forrest licked his lips, glancing away. In a very offhand manner, he told her, "Happy Thanksgiving."

She snorted. Was he being sarcastic? "Happy Thanksgiving to you, too."

"I want to take you to catch fireflies."

"Why?"

"I think you'd like it," he said honestly. Ellie May wasn't quite sure what to say. She shuffled her feet in the snow, "Does your family know you're here?"

"Does it matter?"

She shrugged. "Suppose not…are you hungry? I've got some cornbread and dressing."

They ate in the deer stand, both leaning against the tree trunk off which the platform was built. Ellie May was bundled in her quilt, Forrest's warm side leaning into her. They did not speak. Ellie May could sense that Forrest often had silent moments in the company of others. The silence did not offer discomfort. As a matter of fact, the young girl sort of liked it in spite of herself. When the food was gone, Forrest thanked her, complimented her cooking, and jumped from the stand. He left without a word.

Much to her chagrin, her father was wide awake when she returned. He hatefully sneered at her. "Saw yo' friend drive by…the Bondurant boy. I done told ya you ain't got no damn business with them! Ain't a one of them worth a shit."

"That's not true," bit Ellie May defensively. How dare he! The Bondurants were a good, honest family. They took care of her, saved her life from the very man speaking ill of them. "You don't know them."

Her father's nostrils flared. "Are you back talking me?" Earl Davis stood with a surprising stability for someone who'd drank nearly three gallons of mule that day. Earl wasn't a tall man. He was stout but built like an ox, thick with muscle and packed fat. Ellie May tried not to show her fear as he loomed over her, "No, sir."

"Huh. Cause it sounded like you were…but you wouldn't do that. You're a little chicken shit." He snatched her jaw in a painfully tight grip, yanking her toward him. He ranked her with a repulsed sneer before shoving her away. "You are nothing. Go fetched me some beans and ham."

"I can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"You ate the last of 'em yesterday."

"No, I didn't."

He had; he was simply too drunk to remember it. "Well there's none left in there now. There's a pork chop in the cooler. If you want, I can fry it-"

"I want my fucking ham!" he roared, tossing his empty cigarette roll on the floor. She didn't bother to try and fight him. Her meager strength was useless against men like her father. Nor did she try and sprint to her room, locking herself away. He'd just come at her door with an ax.

The first blow landed across her cheek. The second, her right eye. The third, her mouth. Her lip split open, blood bursting from the jagged seam torn in her lip. It slid over her chin, down her neck, and pooled on the collar of her dress. Her eyes watered from the pain and she struggled to breathe. Thankfully, his hunger seemed to overpower his rage and he left her, barreling toward the kitchen in search of food.

The following morning Earl sent her to town to pick up another ham. A few girls inside the grocer had recognized Ellie May from the corn shucking. As her kiss with Wingfield was still a popular topic of interest, it didn't take long for word to spread about her new injuries.

That was four days ago and come that Sunday morning service, Forrest was ready to rupture with worry. When he saw Ellie May's battered face as she entered the church he grew murderous. She had been right after all; Forrest genuinely ached to help the poor girl but he'd only made it worse. She'd refused to even look at him when she left church, trailing pitifully after her stumbling father. He couldn't blame her. So Forrest tried to leave it alone. He threw himself into his work in the field, burying the anger deep inside, burying his need for justification on her behalf.

"Daddy, we have to do something," Era Bondurant said one night. She was tired of doing nothing while her little brother tormented himself. More importantly, she liked Ellie May and what was happening to her was awful.

"What can we do?" asked their father solemnly. He was just as unsettled by this mess as his children, but there was only so much to be done.

"Why doesn't she come live with us?"

"What?" squeaked Belva, who'd been half listening as she wrung out the laundry.

"She can use Howard's room. She won't be a burden; she can help around the house. You know she does all the housekeeping in her home. Plus, she's good with children, always helping the younger ones at school." Era grinned the full gravity of her suggestion hit her. Era loved attaching herself to Belva's side. She loved conspiring with her older sister, knitting and chatting about things only a fellow young woman could comprehend. Ellie May could be another sister. Another wonderful companion and secret conspirator. "Oh, daddy, please!"

"What makes you think her father would let her stay with us?" demanded Belva. "You saw what he did to her face just because she _talked_ to Forrest."

The screen door abruptly slammed. No one had seen Forrest coming up the porch, had heard him slip into the kitchen. Belva winced, eyes growing wide in horror. "Daddy…daddy, I'm sorry…I didn't realize he was…"

Their father said nothing.

* * *

Keeping away from Ellie May was much harder than Forrest had anticipated. Nearly every night his sleep was plagued with nightmares about her abuse and pain, his days haunted with gripping thoughts. He knew his mind was being unreasonable. He hardly knew the girl; sure they'd gone to school together and had talked a few times, but that was it. Still, Forrest knew it wasn't so much about Ellie May herself as the principle of the matter. Though, he couldn't argue that he'd enjoyed the time he'd spent with her. She was soft and sort of proper, but fiery, too. She didn't attempt to carry useless conversation or bother him with trivial matters. She accepted his silence and greeted him warmly with one of her own and he'd liked that. He'd liked it a lot.

A week had passed since Thanksgiving, since the church service. Impressed that he'd made it this long, Forrest thought he deserved to treat himself. "Hey, Jackie, c'mere!" he called to his baby brother. Jack scampered off the porch and ran to the barn. He screeched to a halt at his brother's side. He beamed, "Yeah, Forrest?"

"Ellie May been at school this week?"

Jack nodded vigorously. "Mhmm. Sure has. She helped me with my sentences Wednesday. I couldn't figure it out but she was real nice."

Forrest paused. "Did she now?" Pride rose within him. She'd helped Jack. His brother. She'd seen him struggling and took care of it.

"Yeah. She helped Eugene, too, but he still don't get it. Aw, he's stupid, anyhow. Her face looks real nice and pretty again, you know. The bruise done gone away. Say, you think she…" Jack continued to ramble, plopping down on a wood bench in the barn while his brother fed the pigs, cows, and chickens. Jack loved his old brother dearly. Forrest was Jack's best friend. Well, him and Cricket, and Jack looked up to Forrest in the way that only a child could. In Jack's eyes Forrest could do no wrong. Jack decided he would watch out for Ellie May at school. Though he didn't quite understand why, he knew she was important to Forrest and Jack wanted to help. He would like a cowboy, scouting the desert to make sure it was safe for his men.

When Ellie May wasn't at school the next day Jack felt extremely let down. His one chance to prove himself to his brother and she'd ruined it. Jack would later find out that Ellie May had purposely not gone to school. She'd gone to seek out Forrest and to tell him she was sorry. She was sorry he'd blamed himself and sorry that she'd tried avoiding him. Jack was never given specific details but that was the day that everything changed. That day Ellie May and Forrest decided that they needed each other in their lives. Forrest needed a bigger purpose in life than growing cabbage and tobacco. Ellie May needed a defender, protection against her father. They could do that for each other. She would be his purpose, he would be her protector.

Dorothy Bondurant invited Ellie May to supper with the family that night. They gathered at the long kitchen table just after dusk. The meal was simple but delicious and it warmed Ellie May to her core. This was what a family was supposed to be. No violence or hurt, only love and warmth. Ellie May was tremendously envious but she was also grateful. Later when Forrest drove her home she told him so, professing how dear she thought his family to be.

"They're alright," he said humbly. He parked at the end of her drive, careful not to be spotted by her father. Ellie May turned to face him, "Thank you, Forrest." For everything.

The Bondurant boy nodded and Ellie May leaned across the seat to place a quick, innocent kiss to his cheek. "Good night."

"Ellie," he caught her wrist. "What're you doin' tomorrow?"

The petite girl shrugged. "I have school but…why?"

"I still got to take you firefly huntin'."

"Why do you wanna go catch those damn lightening bugs so bad?"

"I done told you. I think you'd like it. I'm gone take you, tomorrow," he decided. "I'll pick you up from school, you just be ready to go."

"Do I get a choice?" Ellie May asked, but somehow she already knew the answer. She slipped from the truck, shutting the door with a grin. Bits of snow fell off the roof of the truck and she shook the white flakes from her hair. "Tomorrow, then." And he was gone.

* * *

**A hint about the next chapter: there's romance! Finally! Cause trust me, I'm just as ready for it as you guys are. **


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter was super fun to write for a number of reasons. The firefly bit was just too cute to imagine and the ending is really powerful in a number of ways. At least, I think so. Hopefully you all will agree. Enjoy. **

* * *

Chapter Four

As promised Forrest was waiting in the dirt lot outside the school when class let out. He was leaning against the hood of the truck, his fedora pulled low over his eyes effectively blocking the afternoon sun. He graced Ellie May with a faint smile as she approached. He popped open her door, offering a hand to help her into the truck. "You got everything?"

Ellie May held up her one school book, her pencil tucked neatly behind her ear. "This is it."

They drove north through Rocky Mouth toward Burnt Chimney to the steep mountain called Grassy Hill. Ellie May had never been to Grassy Hill, as the summit was usually reserved for mountain men who had their mule stills scattered across the deep slopes. Being there gave her a rush of excitement. The mountain was almost forbidden to people like her but Forrest brought her in, included her in this exclusive world.

He stopped the truck halfway up the mountain's face and apologized, she would have to do a bit of walking. The Bondurant boy led her through the thick woods to a high plateau that during the summer would sprout tall grass and black huckleberry bushes. Now the plateau lay out, enveloped in a blanket of snow interrupted by huge limestone slabs that erupted from the Earth. Forrest took the wooden crate he'd tucked under his arm and dropped it in the snow. He draped a quilt over one of the flatter slabs and told Ellie May to have a seat. She watched, fascinated by his strength and precision, as Forrest sliced holes in the top of several mason jars with a rusty pocket knife.

"Be careful," she whined, the very sight of the knife making her nervous. Forrest glanced at her and raised a sarcastic brow, as if to say, 'Huh, the thought of being careful with a switchblade never crossed my mind.' Ellie May bit her lip and shrugged. "Sorry."

"Don't got nothin' to apologize for," he grumbled, stabbing jar after jar.

They laid on the slab and waited for the sky to darken. Slowly the light blue faded into black, a never-ending stretch revealing a milky band of stars. A full moon shone hung low and Ellie May felt that if she stood on her tiptoes she could reach out and grab it off the mountain. A night chill flowed through the birch trees and swept over them. Here, it was as if they were completely separate from the world. There was nothing but that little mountain clearing. Nothing but Ellie May and Forrest.

Forrest could feel the presence of the woman lying next to him in the snow like a hole in his chest. He struggled to breathe, to focus his thoughts. He felt suddenly naked and he shivered, blaming the cold_. No going back now_, he thought, and he sat up as a flicker of bright yellow light caught his eye. He gently nudged Ellie May. "There," he murmured, pointing at the edge of the plateau. "See 'em?"

First there was one, then two and three, a fourth. And then there were dozens. The little bud-like bugs lit up, their tiny bodies blinking with yellow light, as they flew in circles and zig-zagging patterns. Not five minutes passed and they consumed the entire clearing. Ellie May gasped, her lips spreading into a wide grin. She had never seen anything like it. "They are so many," she whispered, her fingers reaching out into the winter air. They flew around her in a swirl, dipping under her arms and zipping by in front of her face. "Why are they all here? Shouldn't they be hibernating?"

Forrest nodded, "Should be…you remember a couple'a years ago we had that heat wave during winter? Well, folks reckon the heat got the fireflies all back'erds. This bunch of 'em started hibernating that spring when it cooled down. Now they burrow in for the spring and summer, and come out during fall and winter."

Ellie May looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "Can we catch one now?"

Forrest grinned, his chest heaving with joy. "That's what we're here to do, ain't it?" He handed her a mason jar after unscrewing the lid. "You gotta be real slow and careful. Watch 'em, 'cause they're easy to hurt. Now, I'm gonna get 'em to you. You get 'em in the jar."

For hours they moved about the field, catching and releasing lightening bugs. Turns out Ellie May was awful at it. She was either too quick and scared the fireflies away; or too slow and missed them completely. But Forrest was patient with her. There was a surprising gentleness in the way he smiled when she missed one, nodding, 'S'alright.' He helped her with a deep focus, kind and thoughtful. She assumed he'd developed this sense of tolerance with his younger siblings and told him so. Forrest cracked a wide grin. "Naw, Emmy don't require much and I can be rough with Jack. The patience came from Howard. Not much you can do about that boy."

It was nearing one in the morning when a light snow began to fall. The little white flakes drifted down from the heavens, settling in their hair and on their sweaters. Forrest tilted his face toward the sky. "We should be gettin' on now before the roads fill up."

Ellie May nodded and went to twist the cap on her mason jar to release the fireflies. Forrest's hand covered her own. "Leave it. Take 'em with you. They'll last a day or two in there before you gotta let 'em go."

Ellie May peered at the three lightening bugs flying in circles inside the jar, their bodies twinkling on and off. "Really? It won't hurt them?"

"Naw, they'll be fine. Just make sure you don't cover up the air holes."

The trek back to the truck turned their noses red, their cheeks pink, and when Ellie May slid into the cab she shivered and drew her knees up. She greedily took the quilt from the crate and covered herself, cradling the mason jar of fireflies to her chest. "I wonder how they light up," she mumbled quizzically as Forrest set out the snow chains for the tires and cleared the frost off the windows. "Do you need any help?"

"Nope. Stay in the truck, warm up," he grunted, heaving the rusty chains to the front of the truck. He lined them up with the tires and drove into them. Making sure they were secure, Forrest slid back behind the wheel and they were off. Ellie May studied his scruffy cheeks, flushed from the cold. Grinning, she reached over and gently ran her fingers through his hair, dusting out the white flakes of snow. Forrest jumped, the truck lurching to a stop. Her lips twitched as she suppressed a giggle, "Sorry…you had a bit of snow there."

When they reached her home, Forrest turned off the truck's headlights and stalled the engine. "I, uh…er, I hope umm…"

Ellie May grinned as the Bondurant boy bashfully mumbled. Impulsively, she kissed his cheek, his short whiskers tickling her lips, "I had a wonderful time, Forrest. Thank you. It was…amazing and just…fun. I haven't had a good time like that since I was a little girl."

Forrest's skin tingled where her lips had just been. There was an unmistakable wrench in his gut. Like a prissy school girl, he fought the impulse to reach up and touch his cheek. Swallowing thickly, he cleared his throat. "Would you like to have dinner with me and my family tomorrow?"

She beamed. "I would love that very much."

And so the following evening Ellie May joined the Bondurants around their kitchen table and took great pleasure in yet another fine meal. This, it would come to pass, would merely be one of many the suppers Ellie May would spend at the Bondurant home over the next several weeks. Her constant presence at their home began to worry Ellie May; she did not want to overstay her welcome or bother anyone. But Forrest argued that the more time Ellie May spent at their home, the less time she risked getting whelped on by her father. Forrest did everything in his power to keep her there. He coerced her into a wide variety of time consuming affairs from milking the cows to braiding Era's hair, to attending their family bonfires and tutoring Cricket in English.

As Christmas neared the Bondurants began to look at Ellie May as a familiar, welcome face. It was understood and accepted that she was a part of them now. This strange change was met with no resistance, no bitterness, but rather open arms and comforting smiles. More than once it was hinted that Ellie May make her company permanent. It was Era who first voiced this concept to her. "I told momma and daddy ages ago. You could take Howard's room, no problem. Nobody's been in their since he left anyhow."

"What happens when Howard comes home?" asked Ellie May in a whisper. Era frowned, her eyes watering, "If he comes home, you mean."

There was no point in lying about the hope Ellie May felt when Era suggested she live with the Bondurants. This hope only grew when Granville and Dorothy told her they supported their daughter's suggestion. "S'like I said, we don't lock the door," said Granville, his wife nodding at his side. Still, Ellie May wasn't a fool. There was still the issue of her father and she didn't expect a solution any time soon. So Ellie May merely smiled whenever it was mentioned as if to say, 'I wish…but we know better…' and the subject was dropped. But when she was alone, holed up on her deer stand, or lingering in the school house after class, she allowed herself to dream. To hope.

Before anyone knew it, Christmas Eve had arrived and Ellie May stood at her father's stove cooking a Blackwater Creek holiday special – pulled pork in stump whiskey barbque sauce. Forrest had given her the whiskey, bought off a man in town who'd been making liquor since he was old enough to lip a bottle. The liquor was damn good and made a fine sauce. Ellie May hoped her father would like it. Pulled pork was one of his favorite meals and Ellie May had made it for him in hopes that it would soften the inevitable blows to come. Earl woke just as she pulled the meat off the hot stove. "Why the hell are you cookin' so damn early?" he grumbled as he stumbled into the kitchen. "Been bangin' around in here since the sun came up."

Ellie May neglected to point out that it was nearly noon. "Smells good," he gruffed, poking around in the cooler for something to drink. "What is it?"

"Pulled pork. I was going to make us sandwiches for lunch. Is that alright?"

"Suppose. Did'ju steal it?"

Ellie May's cheeks flushed. "No, sir. We bought the pork last week."

He hummed and began to nurse a half-empty bottle of Scotch he'd discovered in the recesses of the ice cooler. "Come get me when it's done. I'll be on the porch."

Ellie May let out a sigh of relief as he disappeared. So far so good; she only prayed he'd maintain his good mood. They ate in silence, Earl wolfing down his barbque like a starving man. When his hunger was sated, her father crawled off to the couch where he continued to knock back the Scotch and eventually drift off, his snores echoing off the confining walls of their home. The moment his eyes were closed Ellie May took off into the woods. Forrest was waiting at the deer stand, a wide rectangle of a box in hand. He grinned when he spotted her brunette head bobbing through the trees. "Merry Christmas, Ellie May."

"It ain't Christmas yet. We still got one more day. Forrest, what is that? We said no presents!"

"This isn't a present," he lied. "It's a necessity."

Ellie May pulled a face but took the box anyhow. They climbed up into the deer stand and Ellie May tentatively unwrapped the box. She lifted the lid and smirked. "A necessity, huh?" She withdrew the baby blue cardigan and held the soft material to her cheek.

"Figured it was the only way to get you to stop stealin' mine."

"It's beautiful, Forrest." She kissed his cheek, not a hair away from the corner of his mouth. "Thank you. Well, your gift is at the house on account of I was saving it for Christmas Day."

"I thought we said no presents?" he teased. The girl opposite him gave a sly shrug, "What can I say? You're a bad influence on me."

"Me? The bad influence?"

"Mhmm, everyone says so."

"Who's everyone?" he snorted.

"Belva and Era."

Forrest gave a great, barking laugh. "Well, damn, that's all the authority you need."

Ellie May slid off her faded white sweater and pulled on the cardigan. The cotton was smooth on her skin and radiated absolute warmth. A pleasurable shiver ran up her spine and Ellie May grinned. "It's perfect. I love the color. Did your sisters help you pick it out?"

"No. I am capable of making decisions on my own." When Ellie May shot him a disbelieving glance, he confessed. "Momma helped."

She giggled. "I thought so. Either way, it was very thoughtful and I love it."

Forrest's chest tightened. "I'm glad." His mother had been right; the soft blue went wonderfully with her eyes and he couldn't stop staring. She was beautiful. Forrest didn't realize he'd brought his hand up to cup her face until Ellie May placed her petite hand over his. Her skin was so soft, so delicate. Brushing his thumb over her cheek, Forrest wondered if his coarse skin, made harsh from too many hours spent laboring in the sweat, heat, and Virginia clay, had ever felt smooth like hers. He seriously doubted it.

"Forrest," she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut. Ellie May leaned into his open palm. It was almost instinct, the way their bodies curled toward one another. Their foreheads touched and her eyes flew open. Was this really happening? After so many nights gallivanting across Franklin County, after the endless dinners with his family, after the witty banter and the shared laughter, was it finally coming to pass? "Damn, Forrest," she whispered, her lips a mere inch from his. "Are you ever going to kiss me?"

His eyes closed as he held her face. She saw his adam's apple move up and then down, as he swallowed his indecision a split second before he pressed his mouth to hers.

Forrest's kiss was like a volcano. It erupted in a great burst of heat and power, exploding within the deepest pit of her stomach; then bubbling up, slow and firey. It warmed every part of her, the surface of her body tingling with the overwhelming sensation. For weeks Ellie May had pondered what it would be like to feel his plump lips on hers and as the Bondurant boy gently scraped her mouth with his, he shattered every expectation she had. His kiss drew her to him like a moth to a flame. She scrambled over herself to get to him, her fingers gripping the collar of his jacket. Forrest's hand trailed down her cheek, around to the back of her neck. He held her to him, nipping and pulling at her bottom lip. Ellie May sighed against his lips. She was turning into pudding. He was turning her into pudding!

Forrest pulled away a moment later. He licked his lips, his chest heaving with labored breaths. He captured her chin in a tender grip, his face expressionless as he searched her face. By then Ellie May was used to such things from Forrest but today she was not feeling patient. She tugged at his shirt. "Can we do that again?"

A smile ghosted over Forrest's lips as he nodded. Ellie May lifted her chin, her lips grazing Forrest's. She hummed happily, "Merry Christmas, Forrest Bondurant."

Forrest kissed her, murmuring, "It ain't Christmas yet, remember?"

_No?_ thought Ellie May. 'Cause it sure felt like it.

The young couple lost track of time, too swathed in one another's company to keep up with something as trivial as the hour. When the sun began to set, Ellie May withdrew, her gaze glued to Forrest's. "It's getting late…you should be with your family."

Forrest twisted a lock of her brunette hair around his finger. "I am."

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Beaming, Ellie May tucked her head under his chin and held him. "Do y-"

"_Ellie May!"_ The furious shout was unmistakable and every bone in her body froze. Eyes wide with terror, she looked at Forrest, "Please, please, stay here."

"No chance in hell," grumbled Forrest as he lumbered down the deer stand. Ellie May scrambled after him, her fingers wrapping futilely around his wrist. Though his face was as impassive as ever there was something deadly about the calm lack of expression. Ellie May could see the rage brewing within, his eyes betraying him. "Forrest, _please_-"

"Goddamn it, Ellie May! I know you're out here! Where are you, you little shit?!"

Her father was standing in their front yard, the empty Scotch bottle tight in his clutch, his eyes blood red and drooping. His teeth set when he saw them approach. "Why the fuck is he here? You think you can bring them here! To my home! After what his cock sucking daddy said to me?"

Ellie May winced at his foul words. _For the love of all, Lord make him stop_, she pleaded. Forrest stopped just feet from her drunken father. "Go on in the house and get your things," he said quietly to her. Her lips parted but before she could speak, Forrest added, "Don't argue, Ellie. You have lost your mind if you think I'm lettin' you stay here with him for another minute. Go on, now. Get your things and we'll be on our way."

"She ain't goin' nowhere with you! Or any fucking body else, for that matter! Ellie May, you get your ass over here." Earl took a staggering step forward and Forrest shifted so that he stood between the man and his daughter.

Her pulse thundering in her ear, Ellie May made a dash for the house. Earl fumbled after his daughter but Forrest caught him by the throat. Everything his older brother had ever told him about fighting slammed abruptly into him.

A week after Forrest's ninth birthday, a boy at school had been picking on Jack because he was best friends with the town cripple. This didn't sit right with Forrest for a number of reasons, the first and foremost being: Jack was his brother, and you don't mess with Forrest's family. The fight was quick and clumsy, both Forrest and the other boy walking away with their fair share of bruises. For a week it hurt to chew his food, but the tussle had been effective and the boy learned to leave Jack and Cricket alone. This was the first time it occurred to Forrest he better start paying attention to how his body reacted to physical violence.

The next morning in the barn, Forrest dug around and found a large burlap sack and set about filling it with a mixture of dirt, clay, and straw. When the bag was full enough Forrest tied the end securely with some twine and tossed a length of rope over a rafter, hanging the bag level to his head. It was a lumpy, swaying mass of burlap, bits of straw sticking out and streaming dust, but Forrest was plenty proud of his creation. He assumed a boxing pose like he'd seen in pictures and poked at the bag with his tiny fists. With each hit it swung back at him and he began to hit harder, stopping the momentum of the bag as it 'rounded back. After one particular shot, his knuckles popped and he swore, grabbing at his hand to massage his fingers.

There was a crunch of gravel and Howard came into the barn. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and he carried a spool of baling twine. Forrest halted the swaying bag. Howard gave him a curious look for a moment, then stepped to the bag and poked it with his beefy fingers, prodding the worn burlap. He looked at his little brother and grinned. "Regular Jimmy Braddock."

Forrest was not the type to get easily embarrassed and he merely gazed up at his colossal brother. Howard stepped up. "Let's fix it a bit." He untied the rope and brought the bag down. He broke up the clay within the sack and repacked the dirt to form a cylindrical shape. Then, he took some spare burlap and tore it into strips. He took Forrest's hand and wrapped the strips of burlap around it and between his fingers, pulling it tight. "So's you don't bust your hands."

When Forrest's hands were well wrapped Howard stepped back and nodded. Forrest pawed at the bag, throwing a few jabs with his right hand testing out the constricting wraps. "Here," Howard said. "Quit foolin' with that stance. You gotta twist your body with it. And you gotta lead with the left first, save the right since you's right-handed."

Howard shot a couple of demonstrative left jabs into the bag. Forrest observed with a keen eye, trying out some left-right combinations. His big brother nodded in approval and grabbed the bag to stop it from swinging. "Another thing you need is a good hook. Most fellas will throw everything real wide, which will leave them open." He feigned a few wide, looping haymakers. "You gotta throw your hooks short and tight. Dip the shoulder."

Howard squared before the bag and dipped his left shoulder slightly. "Then, hook it hard." He ripped a short hook into the midsection of the clay-filled sack. "Now you do that after he's thrown something. It's gonna be a right hand, you see, 'cause most is right-handed, too. He throws the right hand…" Howard dipped slightly and moved his head to the side, as if ducking from a coming blow. "…and then when he misses he will be wide open for the hook."

Howard fired two quick hooks into the bag. Forrest set his feet and practiced his jabs, right cross, and left hook. Howard watched with his arms folded. He picked up his spool of baling line, wiping his forehead on his shirtsleeve. The eldest Bondurant child squinted in the sunlight. "You plan on whoopin' somebody?"

Forrest paused. "Not today."

"Never does turn out like you think," said Howard as he retreated. "When the first swing happens everything is new an' nothin' is the way you thought. Be careful, little brother."

Forrest nodded. "Thanks, Howard."

"Anytime."

As Earl Davis turned for his daughter, his brother's words echoed in his mind. Howard was right, a fight never turned out like anticipated, but Forrest knew this fight would be quick, simple. As Forrest wasn't yet fully grown, Earl had about a foot in height and nearly forty pounds on him. But the man was drunk as a skunk and would hopefully be easy to take down. Gripping his throat, Forrest kicked his legs out from under him and slammed him into the ground. Straddling his waist, he kept a hand on the man's windpipe and peeled his fingers off the glass bottle, tossing it into the woods, as Earl started to writhe in anger. The drunk man's face went scarlet to purple and he clutched at Forrest's arm, kicking in the snow. He glared wildly up at the serene figure looming over him. He clawed at Forrest's face but Forrest simply turned away. His mouth tightened as he waited for Ellie May to emerge.

Earl's eyes grew fearful and he sputtered, gasping for breath. The power in his kicks rapidly subsided, his grip on Forrest's arm loosening. Darkness seemed to close in on him and he felt a sudden numbness fall over him. After a moment, Forrest slackened his hold. Earl coughed and clutched at his throat, scrabbling in the snow. Forrest stood and debated kicking the man a few times for past indecencies, but decided it would be a waste of energy. Earl Davis would get what was coming to him soon enough.

Ellie May appeared in the doorway. Forrest held his hand up, stopping her. He knelt in the snow, and turned Earl's head to face him. "Remember this," he warned. "You hear?"

Then, Forrest extended his arm to Ellie May, who wrapped her slender fingers around his and fell into his side. Neither of them knew it, but that would be the last time Ellie May saw her father before he killed himself in the summer of '21.

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**Many thanks yet again to everyone out there reading and reviewing, alerting, or favoriting. You guys make me happy. Sincerely. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Apologies that it has taken so long, my friends. Midterms have arrived and my professors are getting greedy with my time. But this also means fall break is fast approaching and that I'll have three days completely devoted to this lovely story. **

**A great many thanks to everyone supporting this; I'm so pleased you like it. This story is already very near and dear to my heart. I just adore the Bondurant family and I love that through this work I can explore their dynamic lives, personalities, and relationships. Speaking of, has anyone checked out the book? If so, what did you think? Share your thoughts! **

**Several new characters are introduced in this chapter, some good, some…not so good. Don't overload yourselves trying to remember them all, the main ones to make note of are Clyde Eller and Miss Lucy. I'll just tell you now, you will not like Clyde. Homeboy is a douche. But I'll let the story speak for itself. Enjoy. **

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Chapter Five

A cold front came down on Franklin County in the beginning of January. The freezing temperatures and near constant blizzard-like snow fall kept the Bondurant family close together. It was a glorious time for Emmy and Jack because it meant their older siblings were around all the time, including the newest addition to their family, Ellie May. The children hung about the house in the mornings and in the afternoons Forrest would peddle his secondhand bicycle through the thick snow across the wide field in front of their home, the younger ones chasing him merrily in the golden glow of fading sunlight. After supper they gathered around the warm stove in the family room. On those nights Papa Bondurant, as Ellie May grew to call him, would bounce the younger ones on his knee like a bucking horse, grinning brightly through his thick beard, his wife in her rocker gazing adoringly at her family.

This was a new world for Ellie May, so unlike the one she'd previously known, and often the young girl found herself in a state of bliss. Here there was no fear or pain, only warmth and belonging. It never ceased to amaze Ellie May how accepting the Bondurants were. They had welcomed Ellie May to their family like she was meant to have been there all along, even though it meant one more mouth to feed, one more body to clothe. To repay their generosity, Ellie May exhausted herself night and day to earn her keep. She also insisted that one of the other girls share Howard's room with her. She felt guilty taking the whole room to herself when there was more than enough space for another. Eventually Emmy was volunteered to room with her. In those days Emmy clung to their mother, shadowing her through the kitchen and sitting in her lap in the rocker by the window. Emmy had an innocent air, naïve and quick to bawl. At first she shied away from Ellie May, but by that spring the little girl was able to tolerate her presence.

One evening Ellie May was busy peeling potatoes and carrots for the stew Momma Bondurant was preparing and she knicked herself with the knife. Hissing, she drew her thumb to her mouth, sticking her tongue to the slice to stop the flow of blood. Belva appeared at her side with a bandage. "You need to slow down. Stop overworking yourself. We want you here, you know. You don't have to prove yourself."

Of all the Bondurants, Belva had seemed the least excited about Ellie May's arrival. Not unfriendly, exactly, just less enthusiastic than the rest of her family. But that night it was if is Belva's words were a blessing, the final factor of Ellie May's fate. She was officially a Bondurant.

The following Friday Papa Bondurant closed down his store early and piled his young'ins onto the bed of the truck. They drove west to Haw Patch Hill to the Jamison farm for a wood chopping. The farm lay at the foot of Thornton Mountain in the western part of Franklin County, a rough, mostly wooded stretch with hard clay soil. Papa followed the dirt track that wound by the Jamison's farm house and into the back fields, which were dotted with cattle. Thin plumes of smoke rose from the fields abutting the mountain slope. The felling was finished, and the men were pulling stumps with teams of mules and rolling or carrying the heavy logs to the wagons for transport down the hillside. Across the field others stood burning piles of brush, children chasing one another, zig-zagging around the fires. Most of the able-bodied men from the southern part of the county were there.

Forrest joined the men cutting out stumps while Papa helped the older men driving the mules and workhorse teams. Jack shot off like a firework into the night, running off to join the other children in play. Emmy stuck to her mother's side as usual, as she and the three older girls made off toward the house to aid with supper. Before long Forrest was stripped down to his undershirt and suspenders, his body smoking in the cool spring air. It was difficult and slippery work, the damp roots like rubber and the footing crumbled and shifted. The roots had to be struck at the right angle to bite and eventually Forrest was able to find a steady, easy rhythm. He worked in silence for the next hour with the other boys, half-listening as they joked and carried on. When Clyde Eller showed up, Forrest hardly noticed, too preoccupied with his work. And it's a good thing.

Clyde and Forrest had a history going back as far as anyone could remember. They'd always been at sorts over one thing or another and often their squabbles ended in bloodshed, be it by a cut lip or a busted knuckle. Mind you, the boys were young and in those days most fights ended as soon as they started. But now they were older and there were bigger consequences for runnin' your mouth. Suppose that's why Clyde should'a kept his mouth shut. But just cause you should do somethin', don't mean you do it.

"Missy found a homeless cat the other day," he began conversationally. A few of the other's commented, curious as to where this was going. "She begged Paw to let us keep it but y'all know how he is about wandering creatures. I told him, I said, 'Hell, we ought to give it to the Bondurants. I hear they got a thing for takin' in strays.'"

Forrest paused, just a hitch in the stroke of his ax, then made a final, heavy cut. He stepped back from the stump, tossing his ax aside. _Ah hell_, thought Tom Cundiff, who'd been working beside the Bondurant boy. _Now Clyde's done it_. Forrest looked at Clyde for a moment, the same blank look, then turned and gestured to Washbourne, who drove the horses and with a crunching roar the stump was ripped from the ground. Forrest shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the dark hole in the earth, the twisted ends of roots, rocks, red clay, and seemed to consider something for a moment. Tom half wondered if Forrest was going to toss Clyde down in the hole but before he could say anything Forrest took of his work gloves and slapped them on his thigh. He glanced around for a minute, then turned to Tom. "Let's go."

The pair joined the group of older men around a small pile of burning pine knots. Aubrie Kendrick brought a mason jar of corn whiskey from his truck and the men passed it around slowly and discussed the progress of the work. Forrest declined the drink when it reached him, and Tom grinned, taking the jar and swigging it back. Forrest could hear the Mitchell twins arguing before he could seem them. They stumbled toward the fire, both shirtless, round bellies hanging over their belts, their skin burned a deep rust color. Cal and Eddie were impossible to distinguish, and most people in the county gave up trying and the twins assumed a sort of plural existence. They had the same bright, green eyes and blond hair as their older brother Danny. The boys were about Jack's age, maybe a bit older, and when they appeared at Forrest's side, he could see the gaps in their smiles where their baby teeth were still falling out.

"Hey, For'st," one twin said. "How's things?"

"Good to see you, For'st," said the other.

Forrest nodded, affectionately rubbing the head of the twin closest to him. "Boys. Where's Jack and Cricket?"

"Aw, they're running 'round by the barn." Cal or Eddie gestured to the barn in the distance. The other twin swung an arm around his brother's shoulders, their small bodies rocking. "Say, have you heard from Howard? We ain't heard from Danny yet. Daddy says not to worry but-"

"Momma's been cryin' a whole lot and she says it's a bad yeoman-"

His brother elbowed him, "Omen, not yeoman, you big dummy!"

"Says it's a bad _omen_ that he ain't written her yet."

Forrest frowned playfully. "Naw, I don't think it's a bad omen. Just means he's busy is all." Danny Mitchell and his brother Howard had been good buddies before they enlisted. They got shipped out together and, as the twins said, neither had been heard from since. The twins looked hopeful and full of pride at the idea of their brother tearin' up the battlefield. Suddenly, a low whistle emitted from one of the men and Forrest turned to see a procession of cars slowly making their way across the broad valley, bringing the food down from the house.

The men began to put their coats back on and after a few more drinks Aubrie Kendrick put the jar back on the floorboard of his truck before the women got close enough to see.

When the women arrived they spread blankets on a patch of level grass and laid out bowls of sweet corn, greens with ham hocks, pork cracklings, hash gravy, plate of biscuits covered with napkins, and skillets of corn bread. Dick Jamison, the man in charge of the whole affair, came over to the bunch of men who remained clustered off to the side. "Well," he huffed. "Set to it."

Forrest waited with the younger boys as the women and elders filled their plates. When he got his food, a massive pile of corn, cracklings, and biscuits smothered in white gravy, he sat on a stump next to his father who was already digging in. Tom Cundiff, Jack, Cricket, the Mitchell twins, and Walter Henley, an old friend of his father's, sat with them as they ate, occasionally commenting on the weather or the quality of the meal. Women joined their husbands and the younger, unmarried women, including his sisters and Ellie May, made their own circle on a blanket with Wilma Jamison and her friends. Their soft voices carried over to where Forrest sat as the light began to fade in the sky and a night breeze wafted over the mountains, carrying sparks from the fire over the fields. Women wrapped wool shawls around their shoulders, pulling their children's jackets a little tighter. By now the lingering sweat of physical labor had dried and Forrest swore as his hands and feet grew cold. He should have brought his sweater.

Across the field Ellie May ate in silence, listening as the other girls gossiped, eyeing the available young men who'd come to the wood chopping. She felt a bit uncomfortable. She didn't belong among these girls. She'd wanted to go sit with Forrest and their father, but Belva and Era insisted that would be improper. "Besides," said Era. "You need to make some friends. It'll be good for you." So there she sat, spooning hot dumplings into her mouth and sipping on tea.

A shadow fell over her shoulder and Elli May glanced up to see a young woman standing behind her. She was fair-haired, slight, and freckled, with a nervous smile and shaking hands. Immediately, Belva and Era shot to their feet with shrieks and shouts, pulling the girl into, what Ellie May was sure had to have been, a painful hug. "Lucy, how are you? How's your momma? Have you heard from Howard?"

The woman, Lucy, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, "Hi, Belva, Era."

She folded herself down onto the blanket beside Ellie May, the sisters retaking their seats, and Belva blushed. "Oh, I'm sorry. Lucy, this is Ellie May. She's a friend of the family; she's stayin' at the house with us. Ellie May, this is Lucy. You haven't met our brother Howard, yet, but this is his wife."

Wife? Ellie May nearly snorted. She looked like a baby! There was no way she was old enough to be someone's wife! Nevertheless, she kindly shook the frail woman's hand and returned to her supper. That night Era would tell Ellie May all about Lucy and Howard's short, but impressive, whirlwind romance. She would learn that Lucy was from a dirt-poor family from an unworkable, muddy patch of land on Smith Mountain. How she had a dozen or so siblings, not'a one that she liked, and how she was glad to be rid of them. Ellie May would hear about the small wedding ceremony at Snow Creek Baptist, the cabin she and Howard owned in Penbrook, and Lucy's miscarriage of their first son, Granville Thomas, Jr. Though Lucy was a bit mousy and odd, she was quiet so Ellie May reckoned she liked her well enough.

Before long the women began to gather the dirty dishes and fold-up the blankets, the children taking once again to chasing one another about the expansive field. A few families headed off after the meal but those who remained gathered around a large bon fire, passing jars of liquor freely, sweating in the firelight. Dick Jamison came into the circle bearing a six-foot long seasoned dogwood slab. Men cheered as he held it aloft and everyone stood and followed him up the hill to where the trees lay felled. They sniffed around for two stumps equal in height and when they were chosen, the slab was thrown across the stumps, a makeshift table of sorts. Two more stumps were brought up to the slab and placed on either side. The chairs. Then the money came out and the first two men spat on their hands, hitched up their trousers, and squatted on either side of the log, reaching across the slab to lock wrists. Money bet on the contest was placed on the log in a pile and then pinned there in a rawhide bag with a knife. Belcher Whitehead pulled out a revolver and fired it into the sky. The two men lurched forward, straining against one another, the crowd shouting encouragement. There was a struggle, a collective shout, and a loud _thud!_ as one man's hand slammed onto the top of the wood. He yelped and pulled away, stumbling on his backside. Men laughed and clapped the winner on the shoulder, the loser kneeling in the dirt, a jar offered, and a sheepish grin given. Crumpled bills changed hands and a new pair approach the slab.

Another arm-wrestle later and Clyde Eller called out Forrest for a contest. There were howls and whistles of disbelief. Though at this point in time Forrest Bondurant was not known for his unwavering strength, he nearly tripled Clyde Eller in sheer size and there was no debate; Forrest would rise victorious in a matter of seconds. Ellie May looked at Forrest, who stood off to the side and appeared almost bored, his brow furrowed and his eyes in slits. "C'mon, Forrest, show 'em how it's done!"

It was obvious that Clyde had been drinking and, though Forrest hated the boy with everything he had, Forrest wasn't the type to take advantage of the mentally handicap. "Nah, think I'm 'on sit this one out tonight."

"S'matter, Forrest? You scared?" a drunken voice slurred and Ellie May's lips pursed. She really hated alcohol.

"Aw, he ain't scared!" shouted a small, squeaky voice. Ellie May saw Era snatched Jack out on the circle, their father eyeing the scene. A bad feeling wormed its way in her stomach. Clyde stumbled forward, a sheen of sweat on his sniveling face. "That's right. You aren't afraid of nothing, are you? Not even of gettin' bit by all them strays, huh? Tell me, Forrest, does she bite?"

"Shit," hissed Tom Cundiff as Forrest slowly blinked. "Don't do it, Forrest. Don't let him bait you."

But it was too late, Forrest was already stepping forward as he rolled up his shirtsleeves. Money piled on the wood until Dick Jamison stuffed the dollars and coins in the bag and pinned it to the log. "I ain't lettin' him bait me," muttered the Bondurant boy to Tom as he took his seat before the slab. He stared at Clyde's smug grin. "I'm shuttin' him up."

The gun went off and the men heaved, their arms going rigid in the firelight. Clyde grunted, the veins in his arm and neck flexing with strain. He began to jerk, heaving in regular lurches, his eyes pinched and his mouth in a snarl. Rivulets of sweat sprouted from his face, running down to pool on his pressed button-down. He realized he was going to lose, staring into the ever impassive face of Forrest Bondurant. He pathetically attempted to break Forrest's concentration, muttering foully under his breath, his speech broken by gasps for breath and fierce grunts, "Word around town – uh – is you whooped her – ugh – her daddy."

To this Forrest offered nothing and Clyde's crimson face twisted, his eyes widening. The back of his palm was a mere inch from the dogwood slab. He glanced at the spot where Ellie May Davis lingered at the edge of the circle, Lucy Bondurant at her side. "Can't say I blame you. I wouldn't – uh – want to – ugh – share that – uh – either!"

There came a powerful twist in Forrest's gut. A foul rage seized him, painfully squeezing the life in his chest. Up until then he'd merely been pleasing the crowd, putting forth a false struggle. But this anger changed the game and he increased the strength of his grip on Clyde's hand, crushing the cocky man's fingers as he smashed and ground his hand into the slab. The crowd jeered and hollered, men scrambling to get their money. No one seemed to realize Forrest had yet to release Clyde and anguished screams began to echo in the night air. A couple of men staggered forward, including Papa Bondurant, to pull the boys apart. Forrest shrugged them off, driving through the crowd, off into the pastures below.

Ellie May followed silently. They walked to the bottom forty of the pasture, out of the firelight's reach. They sat in the tall grass a few feet apart. Ellie May's instinct was to pat and rub Forrest's back until he calmed but she had learned that Forrest didn't like being touched much. Especially when he was angry, so she sat on her palms until he sighed and glanced back at the hoard of people. He knew he was justified in his actions; Clyde's words were foolish and needed to be properly met. But he was ashamed that his father felt the need to get involved; ashamed that Jack and his sisters saw his behavior. Women and kids didn't need that sort of thing. Ellie May sought his hand in the dark and he let her take it, enjoying the way her smooth fingers grazed over the rough callouses on his palm, the result of too many long days at work. As she wove her fingers through his own, Forrest lay back in the grass and gazed at the stars shining above.

Neither spoke, for there was nothing that needed to be said.

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**So not a whole lot of Ellie May/Forrest action but this chapter is crucial and in the next update you'll see why. For the smut fans out there, the next chapter does focus a lot on their relationship. There might even be some fluff. More importantly though, it's a really pivotal chapter, almost a turning point in how things have been going between them. Hopefully I'll have that out tomorrow. If not, be looking for it Saturday. **

**Hey, see that box down there? You should write some stuff in it. Cause Forrest says so. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, so this chapter's a bit late. Sorry. Midterms have sort of killed me. I totally tanked my Calculus exam and brought my grade in the class down to a 'C'. Which sucks because if I don't get it up come finals, I'll lose my state's financial aid. Math sucks, guys. Like, sincerely. **

**But enough about that! I really enjoyed this chapter because the action is starting to develop but at the same time the story is able to maintain the whole element of family. Family is so key to the Bondurants and I really love writing these little scenes where we get to see the entire family together (minus Howard, sadly). Plus, there's a bit more Ellie/Forrest going on. Not much, but enough to tide you over, I hope. Enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Six

Forrest would soon come to learn that he had broken two of Clyde Eller's fingers and dislocated the cocky man's thumb. This knowledge did nothing to Forrest, but merely rolled of his back with the wind. He would later regret accepting this news so casually.

That spring Forrest's days were split between his father's farm and a sawmill camp near Smith Mountain. The camp sat in a broad dirt patch between two stands of pine and black spruce. A long covered shed made of logs and discarded sheet metal sat in the center of the hollow, flanked by a few smaller outbuildings and a rusty water pump. There, Forrest would work a table-saw, slicing boards from noon till dusk. Just a few days after the wood chopping at the Jamison farm, Clyde Eller showed up at the camp and asked for a job. The manager, a stout man with a deep full-bellied laugh and tobacco-stained teeth named Gen, almost turned him away. Any boy with an education like Clyde's was too overqualified. Plus, he was a scrawny fellow, not the type for manual labor. But Clyde flashed a smile as sweet as butter and winked, assuring the man he'd done his fair share of hard work. His testimony was a flat lie but it did the trick and he was hired.

The following afternoon Forrest was hunched over the end of a table, wrestling a long pine into the saw-chute. His dungarees were dusted with wood chips, the sleeves of his sweat-soaked undershirt rolled up high. The hair poking out under his hat was matted with sweat and sawdust. All around him men stood in the same fashion; some working the bulky wooden block planer, shaving the edges off planks, or pulling crosscut saws through the oaks too thick for the table-saws. Off to the side of the shed a team of mules hitched to a wagon stood in the sunlight, nosing at crabgrass and thistles that lay trampled in the dirt.

Forrest did not see Clyde enter from the shed's back.

Clyde walked straight to the twelve foot tall load of lumber, a looming mass of pines laying one on top of the other, and cut the main straps holding them in place. The logs rolled, one, two, and then another, an avalanche of brown timber. Men who saw it say Forrest didn't even make an attempt to get out of the way; rather, he flipped his hat aside and turned to face the rolling tons of wood that came for him.

They took him immediately to Rocky Mount, the camp manager Gen driving out to the Bondurant farm to tell Forrest's family. His mother and father went to the hospital, Belva watching over the other children until they returned. Both of his legs had been broken in several places, leaving Forrest virtually paralyzed. They were bound in plaster and the doctor condemned Forrest to bed rest for no less than six weeks. Clyde Eller was arrested that evening. A dozen or so men had seen him cut the straps in plain sight but in spite of their statements, the charges against Clyde Eller were dropped to reckless endangerment and he was sentenced to just three weeks with good behavior.

The Bondurants liked to send someone to visit with Forrest at least once a day to save him from the maddening boredom and solidarity. Papa and Momma had too much work on the farm to visit too often. They were good to make it to Rocky Mount about once a week. Little Emmy would only go if her momma went, and his older sisters couldn't bear to see Forrest in such pain. So mostly, it was Ellie May and Jack who went to see him. They sat in the chair by the window, Jack perched on Ellie May's lap reading softly from the Bible, his speech slow and choppy. The three of them had spent hours like this, Jack droning on through the long days and into the night, the faint rustle of Forrest twitching restlessly under the thin hospital blanket.

While Forrest lay paralyzed, Jack picked up his slack in the field and barn. Or at least, he tried. Jack wasn't built like his brother and he was still very young. His body was not capable of the same caliber of work his older brother performed daily. His efforts, however, were appreciated and Jack often puffed out his chest in pride when he'd go to visit Forrest, describing for his brother how he'd helped birth a sow or loaded the 'bacco by himself. To this, Forrest would crack a wry grin and nod, "Good boy."

The doctors gave him medicine for the pain. Sedatives and other such things. Often Forrest had to fight sleep when he had company, especially if Jack or Emmy were present as the little ones needed much entertainment. But when Ellie May was there alone she practically insisted that he sleep. "Your body heals faster when you rest; it's able to put itself right. Now shut your trap and take a nap. "

While he slept, Ellie May would stare out the window at the grassy knoll behind the hospital or at the profile of Forrest's relaxed face. He appeared so peaceful when he dreamed. Sometimes Ellie May would slide her chair over to his bedside and trace the plains of his sleep-soften features. The subtle curve of his cheek, the full dip of his bottom lip, the gentle crease between his brows. More than once he awoke while she did so and he would stare into her eyes wordlessly as she continued.

"You'll get him back, won't you?" she asked suddenly one quiet afternoon when they were by their lonesome.

Forrest stared hard at the ceiling, his jaw tight and his eyes slits. He was in an extreme amount of pain. So much pain that he failed to mask it. He knew she was referring to Clyde. Forrest spoke through gritted teeth, "There are certain things a man can't overlook."

He heard her gentle sigh, the quiet scrape of the chair against the floor. Suddenly she was in his face, balanced on the edge of his bed. She ran her fingers down his arm, cupping his hand in hers. "Make sure you're completely healed before you do. Can't have you limpin' around the rest of your life."

Forrest said nothing but gave her hand a squeeze.

That night as Ellie May left the hospital, she paused in the doorway of Forrest's room, her hand on the door knob, her eyes on his still form. She stood there for many moments and when she finally turned to leave a dark object in the trash bin by the door caught her eye. There was nothing else in the bin, aside from a crumpled napkin, and Ellie May knelt for further inspection. It was a knotty, molded lump of wood. She eyed the gnarled chunk carefully, pocketing it and heading out. She took the wood and asked one of the nurses where it had come from. Apparently, the doctors found the piece of wood in Forrest's pocket when he first arrived at Rocky Mouth. They assumed it was worthless, something he'd picked up at the sawmill camp, and discarded it. Ellie May knew Forrest was not one for frivolity. If he'd had this on his person there was a reason, a very personal reason.

Her curiosity burning, she took the lump home and put it in the bottom drawer of her dresser inside her mason jar. The same jar she used the night Forrest took her firefly hunting. There the disfigured wood would stay for some time.

Nearly two months passed and when Forrest came home there was a great celebration. The younger ones made a banner out of the old paint they'd used on the barn and a sheet from the cupboard. Momma Bondurant and the girls prepared a large supper of Forrest's favorite foods: corn bread, beans with ham hock, sweet cream corn, roast, and potatoes. They ate with a happy energy and afterward gathered around the radio in the family room.

"You gone start workin' again tomorrow, Forrest?" asked Era, a teasing glint in her eye. Their father nodded, "Don't think I'm gone go easy on you just cause you got a war wound now."

"Granville," warned their mother. "Don't go make him over do himself his first day back, now."

Everyone laughed and Forrest stretched his legs. The prospect of work excited him. Hell, just plain walking with his crutches had excited him. He'd been restricted to that hospital bed for too damn long.

When the weekend came, the weather was damn near miserable. Temperatures had breached the high eighties and the air was thick, humid. The Bondurants opened all the windows in the house, the men going about in just their undershirts, the women hiking up their dresses. At the breakfast table after the Sunday Service, Belva made a side comment about the awful weather, suggesting that it was a perfect day for the family to go take a dip in the creek. Somehow this gave Jack the notion that they were going swimming and he appeared moments later in his swim trunks, a towel strewn over his bony shoulder. Era chortled, poking her baby brother in the side, "Where're you goin', scamp?"

He grinned. "We're going to the creek!"

"No, we aren't," scoffed Belva as she and Ellie May cleared the dirty dishes. Jack frowned, "But you said-"

"I know what I said. Don't mean we're going."

Jack stared at his sisters and Ellie May as they skirted about the room, wiping that and picking up this, their soft chatter light on his ears, his brow furrowed in confusion and a little anger. Abruptly, he dashed out the kitchen, down the front porch, and across the field to the barn where Forrest sat cleaning their father's tools. Though it was a major step down from Forrest's usual duties, it was work that needed to be done and about the only thing he _could_ do while still on crutches. Forrest's gaze remained on the saw blade he was polishing. "Whatta you want, Jack?"

"Ain't you hot out here, Forrest?"

Forrest said nothing, but gave his brother a shifty glance. Jack grinned, "Your legs hurtin'? I bet some cool water would feel mighty nice on 'em right now. Don't you?"

The corner of Forrest's mouth twitched upward. Jack sure could be smart when he felt like it. "You want me to get daddy to take us to the creek," murmured Forrest.

"Well, shoot, F'rest, if you think it might help your pain then 'course we ought to go."

Forrest ruffled his brother's short mop of hair, running his knuckles over his scalp. "Alright, but only cause I reckon you need a day off. The way I hear it, you 'bout killed yourself keepin' this place runnin' while I was gone."

Jack beamed, his insides swelling with pride at his clever plan. He thanked Forrest and shot off like a horse, galloping back to the house. He found the girls in Era and Belva's room. Hands on his hips, he pointedly told them to get on their swimsuits. They were going to the creek.

Momma and the girls packed a picnic and after Papa finished tiling the back forty, the family piled into the truck and headed down to Maggodee Creek. Papa pulled the old Ford into a shaded nook by the Maggodee Creek bridge, the younger children immediately piling out and making a straight run for the water. Momma Bondurant followed, chastising Jack for running and Emmy for running with him, calling, "Y'all know better!"

Era and Belva carried the picnic baskets and quilts, Papa and Ellie May helping Forrest down the sloping creek bed, his crutches sinking into the red clay with each labored step. It was a difficult journey down, much more difficult than Forrest liked to admit, and he leaned heavily against his father's shoulder. Once they reached the edge of the water, his crutches were tossed aside and he eased his way in until he was waist deep in the familiar stream. The current flowed around him lazily, his younger siblings already giggling and splashing up a storm. Emmy was shy as a mess, but boy, did that little girl love her some water. Forrest watched them affectionately, his muscles relaxed by the cool, weightlessness of the water. The older girls were setting up lunch on a flat patch of the bank, splaying out the quilts in the mud and green grass. Their father kicked off his boots and peeled back his shirt, a mischievous glint in his eye that Forrest knew all too well. He glanced at his Momma.

Her back was to the creek, and to their father. She had no idea he was approaching. Forrest couldn't help but grin at his father's antics. He called out to his brother and sister. "Emmy, Jack, y'all best come over this way, now."

The children stopped, their giggles coming to a confused end. "Why?" squeaked Emmy. Forrest nodded toward their parents and Jack beamed, laughing bubbling up his throat. He tugged Emmy's wrist, "C'mon, Em." The children waded like ducks up the stream, making room in the deeper end of the creek for their mother, who would be joining them shortly. The pair hovered at their older brother's side. Up on the embankment, Belva noted the younger ones' strange behavior. She eyed them suspiciously, "What are y'all up to?"

Jack chortled, "Nothin'!"

That's when Belva saw their father and she too snickered, elbowing Era and Ellie May. The trio of girls stopped working and stepped out of Papa's way, stifling their own laughter. About this time all had fallen silent and Momma straightened, her brows furrowed and lips puckered. "What's goin' on?" she asked as she whipped around. Unfortunately for her, she'd spun right into the waiting arms of her husband and was off her feet in an instant.

"Granville!" she shrieked, her legs kicking wildly. She slapped at her husband's shoulders, her children a riot of laughter. "Granville, don't you dare! Put me down! Put me-!" But her furious words were silenced as she plummeted into the murky creek waters. Papa turned to his daughters, who were doubled over with strangled, breathy cackles. "What're you laughin' at, Bel? You're next!"

Belva's eyes grew wide, her giggles dying. "What? Daddy, no!" She took off running along the muddy edge of the creek, her father chasing after her with promises of, "I'm gonna get ya!" Era and Ellie May giggled madly, pointing and laughing as Belva flung herself into the creek before her father could. Era nudged Ellie May, "C'mon, we better get in before he comes for us!"

The Bondurant family played and swam for nearly two hours, the sun beating down relentlessly bathing them in light. A little after two, they delved into the picnic baskets, munching on sandwiches and potato salad. It would have been too much of a hassle for Forrest to scramble out of the water and join them, just to get back in half an hour later; so he pulled himself up onto a rock jutting out of the creek bed about three feet from the quilts and ate there, Ellie May at his side as always.

Ellie May was wearing an old suit of Era's. It had been a gift from their grandmother and had always been a bit big for Era in the chest. As he silently chewed, Forrest pleasantly noted that Ellie May didn't seem to have a problem filling it out. In fact, it fit quite nicely. Ellie May caught his lingering stare and, in spite of himself, Forrest glanced away. He wasn't usually one to turn away first but he knew it wasn't polite to stare, especially at a woman.

Jack was the first one done, as he had practically inhaled his food just itching to get back in the water. He tossed his empty plate into one of the baskets and bolted over to where Ellie May and Forrest sat. "Hey, you figure that rope is still up there?"

Forrest looked thoughtfully at the bridge. He shrugged, "Ain't no reason it shouldn't be, less someone took it down. Go see."

"Rope?" asked Ellie May as Jack took off toward the bridge.

"Our brother, Howard, and a few buddies of his tied a rope to the bottom of the bridge a couple a summers back. It's right there in the middle, see? Between them two posts. The rope's real long and there's a big ole loop at the bottom. The idea is you climb over the edge of the bridge, hook your foot in the loop, and swing on down. It can be a good time, but those boys didn't put a whole lot of thought into the placement of the rope." Forrest explained, "The water beneath the bridge is real shallow. Unless you push yourself out real far, you gone swing right into a slab of rock. Happened to one of Howard's buddies, Danny, one time. Said it hurt somethin' awful."

"I bet it'd be about the same as havin' both of your legs broken, huh?" teased Ellie May, bumping Forrest with her shoulder. She held up her empty plate, "Are you done?"

Forrest nodded, and handed over his plate. Ellie May took the dishes to the basket and heard Jack shout, "It's here, Forrest! It's right here!"

"Jack!" Momma called. "Don't even think about it!"

"Aw, come on, momma. Ain't gone hurt nothin'," argued Forrest. "Just remember to swing real wide, alright, Jackie?!"

Jack nodded fervently, fisting his little fingers around the rope. Momma Bondurant went to protest once more but Papa shushed her, motion for her to continue eating. She frowned, but did so, muttering something like, "…boys gone be boys…my ass…'nother of my babies hurt..."

"Go, Jack!" hollered Era, clapping loudly. Jack squared his shoulders, slipping his foot into the loop and stepping over the short bridge railing. He clung to the wooden structure with one hand, clenching the rope with the other. He seemed to take a deep breath, his little eyes scanning the creek below. Forrest called out to him, telling him not to be afraid. Jack scrunched up his chin, "I ain't afraid!" And with that, he jumped, the slack in the rope tightening with a deafening _pop!_ Jack thought for sure the rope was going to snap in two but there he swung, flying back and forth beneath the bridge, the sun on his back and the wind beneath his arms. He let out a great joyful laugh and waved to his parents and siblings.

"Let go when I tell you, Jack!" his brother called. Jack nodded. He quickly pulled his free hand back to the rope and waiting, inching his foot back. "Okay, Jack, now!"

He hesitated and then, _swoosh_, he was falling through the air. Jack hit the top of the water and thought every bone in his body must have broken. He sank into her dirty depths, leaves and clay and rocks surrounding him. His eyes burned as he fought his way toward the blinding sunlight shimmering above. When he broke the surface, Jack gasped for air, spitting and sputtering, his tiny fists scrubbing his eyes. Through his water logged ears, he could hear his family cheering and suddenly the pain didn't seem so bad. Adrenaline pumped his veins like a supped up Ford engine and he beamed. "Momma, can I go again?!"

They remained at Maggodee Creek until their skin was so pruned that it hurt to touch anything. The little ones were exhausted from the hard day of play, both falling asleep on the ride home. Normally, Forrest would've carried Jack and their father would've gotten Emmy. But seeing as how Forrest could barely carry himself, their mother scooped up Emmy, Papa taking Jack, and the girls took the baskets and dirty quilts inside. Forrest followed his sisters slowly and frowned, a subtle anger stirring deep inside. He was damn near useless like this and suddenly all he could see was Clyde Eller's smug face.

"Forrest?" someone called and he didn't mean to, but he snapped angrily, "What?"

Ellie May was paused on the front steps, half turned toward him, half turned toward the house. She arched an eyebrow at him. "You comin'?"

Forrest swallowed thickly. His anger was at Clyde and Clyde only. He apologized softly and nodded, "Yes ma'am."

She seemed to know exactly what was going on inside his head. She rubbed his arm, her delicate fingers soothing him, as she murmured, "You're more than halfway there, Forrest. This'll all be over soon. Just be patient."

He wondered briefly if that's what she used to tell herself when she lived with her father. If patience was what got her through the painful nights when all she felt were her father's fists. He felt pathetic all of a sudden. He looked at the small girl at his side and thought of all she'd been through, how she'd bravely faced it all, and faced it alone. And here he was bitchin' 'bout his legs like a baby. He cleared his throat, brushing back her damp hair. He pressed his lips to her temple, holding her against his chest. Her hands slipped around his waist and her body sagged as she sighed, burrowing her face against him.

They stayed like that until the humid evening heat and mosquitos got to 'em. Jack was snoozing peacefully when Forrest slipped into their room. He had a hell of a time trying to change out of his wet clothes without falling over. It took near a damn half hour and when he was through, he threw his clothes in the hall at Era's feet and grumbled, "Here. G'night."

Era had merely laughed at her little brother's distress and took the dripping clothes.

Jack stirred a bit when Forrest climbed into bed beside him. The young boy rolled over, yawning, his hands tucked under his chin. Forrest let out a sigh, rubbing his face as he fought his ever restless mind. He was tired of sleeping. He'd gotten enough sleep in the hospital, but his legs were throbbing and he knew if he didn't at least lay still for an hour or two, he'd regret it come morning.

"F'rest…" Jack's sleep slurred word made Forrest's heart thump in his chest. Shit if that little boy hadn't just startled the piss outta him. Forrest licked his lips, "Go to sleep, Jack."

"Hang on. I gotta ask ya somethin'," the little boy yawned. "Are you in love with Ellie May?"

"What?"

"Are you in love with Ellie May? Belva said you ain't but Era swears you are."

Forrest shouldn't have been surprised that his sisters had discussed such. In a way, he wasn't really. More so, he was irritated. Wasn't none of their business, but he supposed that's just how women are. Ain't nothin' he could do about it. He ruffled Jack's hair, pulling the blankets higher around his brother's shoulder. "Go to sleep, Jack. Don't make me tell ya again."

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**For all of you Howard lovers, I have good news! Howard will be returning home from the war in the next chapter! Woot! I adore Howard's character. He was kind of a loveable oaf in the movie but in the novel he's totally just tugging at your heart strings the whole time. **

**Again, a million thanks to everyone reading and reviewing and just supporting this story. You're all wonderful and I love you. Thanks so much! **

**p.s. If you liked the movie's soundtrack check out the Lawless station on Pandora! **


	8. Chapter 8

**A few chapters back the lovely **Gaara-frenzy** asked why Howard still had a room at the Bondurant home if he lived with his wife up in Penbrook. Dear **Gaara**, I was not ignoring you, dear, I just didn't want to spoil the surprise. Err, well, it's not really a surprise, more like a fact. But the point is, that gets explained in this update. **

**As always, thank you, you crazy wonderful people, for your unwavering support. You're all magnificent and somewhere in the (hopefully near) future you will be rewarding with good karma. Thank you for continuing to review and favorite and alert and just, for enjoying this world of Bondurant with me. It's a pleasure to have you along. **

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Chapter Seven

The news came late one hot August night. Ellie May was in the family room, Forrest's head in her lap, the radio playing softly in the corner. Era was perched on the worn sofa, her legs tucked under her as she flipped through an old Sears catalog. Ellie May never really understood why girls looked through old magazines. They couldn't order anything out of it and they weren't doing anything but keeping up with old trends, so why bother? Forrest once told her it was because they couldn't always afford the best or newest things so Era liked lookin' at 'em sometimes. He said it made his sister feel pretty.

Not one of the teenagers bothered to stir as Papa Bondurant's truck rumbled up the drive. They didn't take notice of the late hour, figuring their father had gotten caught up at his General Store shootin' the shit with one of his regulars. In fact, they didn't even bother to get up and greet him. The three of them didn't so much as bat an eye. At least not until they heard the strangled sobbing.

Forrest was on his feet and in the kitchen before Era or Ellie May could stand. Their father stood just inside the door, his wife clinging to his thin frame as cries racked her body. Belva emerged from her room, clutching some knitting to her chest. "Momma, what's wrong?"

Their mother spun, a wide grin splitting her cheeks. The children's foreheads creased in confusion as they shared bewildered glances. Era snorted to herself. Their momma had finally cracked. Belva elbowed her younger sister, stepping forward and gently prodding, "Momma, daddy, what is it?"

"It's your brother," whispered their mother, her chin and lips quivering as she gave a shaky breath of relief. "He's comin' home. Belva, Howard's comin' home."

The Bondurants looked to their father for confirmation, their faces betraying the frightened hope they each felt. He nodded, smiling softly. "Got a call from him down at the store as I was lockin' up. I gotta pick him up at the train depot in Roanoke tomorrow morning."

A gasp that was sort of a cross between a muffled scream and a high-pitched squeal, sounded from Era as she and Belva flung themselves on their mother. They cried together in joy, Papa clapping Forrest on the shoulder. Despite the happy affair before her, Ellie May couldn't shake the resentment that plagued her heart. She was a part of their family; she knew she was one of them. They shared meals, laughter, chores, stories - but Howard was something entirely their own. He was a stranger to her and she feared that his presence would sever some of her new ties to the Bondurants. What if he didn't like her? Surely, they would side with Howard. And where would she stay now? She was in his room, after all. Little Emmy could merely take up her former residence with her older sisters, but where was Ellie May to go?

Forrest caught her eye amidst the commotion. She forced a small grin and politely retreated to the family room. She plopped down in front of the radio, wringing her hands in her lap. Forrest trickled in behind her a few moments later. He dropped to the coarse rug with a sigh, his arm casually falling over Ellie May's shoulders. Ellie May was no stranger to Forrest's keen perceptiveness. Nor to his stubbornness. She knew it was futile to pretend her inner turmoil was anything less than it was. With a frown, she leaned into him and confessed, "Please do not misunderstand me. I'm very happy for you and your family, Forrest. I'm glad Howard is safe and is able to return. It's just...well..."

"You don't know him," he finished for her as the words died on her tongue. Ellie May nodded, chewing her bottom lip. She gave a half-shrug, "What if he doesn't like me?"

Forrest asked, "What if he don't? Don't matter none. You're here to stay whether he does or not. You ain't here outta convenience, Ellie. You ain't here cause we thought it'd be nice to have another sister. You're here because this is where you belong, plain and simple."

Ellie May always felt a little silly when she talked to Forrest about important matters. He had such a simple view on life that his opinions tended to make Ellie May feel like she over thought things quite a bit. "But what about his room? He'll need it back now an-"

"Naw, he don't. Howard lives up in Penbrook with Lucy. He just uses that room when he stays during the summer and helps around here with the tobacco harvest."

Oh. It suddenly occurred to Ellie May that she knew that. When she'd met Howard's wife Lucy at the Jamison wood chopping, the girls had mentioned something about a shared cabin in the mountains. Why hadn't she put two and two together? "Guess y'all called it Howard's room so much I just...I'm being foolish again, aren't I?"

"Think you just worry too much sometimes," said Forrest honestly. When she remained silent, the Bondurant boy hooked his hand under her chin, his warm touch making every part of Ellie May scream with life. He brought her face up to get a better look in her eyes. He spoke seriously, his soothing voice like hot tea spilling down her throat. "He's gonna like you, Ellie. No need to worry 'bout it. And if he don't, he'll lie."

Ellie May scoffed, her eyes rolling. "That's comforting."

He blinked, his expression saying what his mouth wouldn't. _That's the truth_. And Ellie May grinned as she pressed her mouth to kiss cheek. "Thank you, Forrest."

Regardless of her little chat with Forrest, Ellie May was determined to find an excuse to go to town the next morning. Papa Bondurant seemed to anticipate such and sent her to the hospital in Rocky Mount, a brown envelope of cash in her hand. Nearly three months after the incident and they were still paying Forrest's hospital bill.

The young girl took her time lollygagging about town. She stopped at a few shops, hit up the water fountain, and dipped into the cold foods store and bought herself an ice cream soda. Her drive back to the farm was a leisurely, scenic tour. She drove by Maggodee Creek, by the school house, and for a moment thought about driving by her father's house to see if he was still alive or if he'd wilted away into a drunken stupor. But Ellie May knew better. Going by her father's house wouldn't do anything but stir up unneeded trouble. Besides, she knew she was being plain cowardly. It was time to face her fears.

She slowly pulled into the drive and parked behind the barn by the tool shed. The ancient truck she'd driven to town more closely resembled a wagon with an engine than any truck she'd ever seen. It was the first vehicle Papa had ever owned. He'd bought it a week before he proposed to their mother and couldn't let it go, despite the fact that he had his Ford now and that this truck was older than dirt. Whenever folks asked why he didn't just give the darn thing away, Papa would argue that they used it for the farm, which they seldom did, and proudly grin, "Anyhow, this here truck will never quite runnin'. It's like peanut brittle, it just won't break."

Ellie May sat in the aged truck for quite some time. She fiddled with the steering wheel, her foot tapping nervously on the floorboard. She gazed out the front window at the expanse of fields that made up the Bondurant farm. Purple clovers dotted the hills and she could see the outline of Smith Mountain through the haze of clouds. She swallowed thickly, her eyes darting swiftly to the house. _Might as well get it over with._

Contrary to her thoughts, there was no big celebration inside. No music or laughter. No great commotion. Hell, there was practically no sign of life at all. Ellie May paused just inside the front door. She tentatively called out and was greeted with silence. "Where is everyone?" she muttered aloud.

"Ellie May? That you?" Era emerged from the back room when the door slammed shut behind Ellie May. Emmy was hanging like a ragdoll on her hip. The little girl was curled around her torso, her face pressed into Era's shoulder. Ellie May frowned, "Is Emmy okay?"

Era smirked, "I think all the excitement this morning wore her out."

Ellie May glanced about. "What excitement?"

Era laughed, shifting the little girl in her grip. "Yeah. It is kinda dead, ain't it? The boys are out in the field with Papa and Momma and Bel are out back dryin' the laundry. You missed Howard. He left 'bout an hour ago. Headed up to Penbrook to see Lucy."

"Already? But he just got here."

Era shrugged. "He'll be back. Howard can't stay in one place for too long. God knows being trapped on that ship back from France for three months probably killed him."

"It took three months for them to get back?" gasped Ellie May. Geography wasn't her best subject by any means but the Atlantic Ocean couldn't possibly be that large, could it?

"Well, Howard won't say, but I heard daddy talking about it. Apparently, the trip only took about five weeks between port stops and whatnot. But somewhere along the way a few of the men contracted influenza. When they reached Norfolk more than half of the company had died; they were kept in quarantine in the harbor for a month. Can you believe that? He's been safe in America for a month and we had no clue."

"That's awful," frowned Ellie May. "Howard is okay, though?"

Era gave a very unlady-like snort. "Shoot, he's fine. You ain't met him yet, so you don't know, but Howard…it's gone take a damn tornado, and an earthquake too, to take that boy down." Again, Era shifted her little sister and asked Ellie May, "Well, did you have fun in town? You got back awful late."

"Oh, I, um, I had to, uh," the girl stammered. Thankfully for Ellie May, right about that time Jack burst through the front door, Forrest not far behind. It was time for lunch. Era passed Emmy to Ellie May and set about making the boys a few scrambled egg sandwiches. Ellie May joined them at the table, Emmy clinging to her neck. She murmured to Forrest, "He's already gone, huh?"

Forrest cut her a look. She knew the expression well; it was the one that meant Forrest would talk to her about it later. She nodded once and tightened her hold on Emmy. Ellie May turned to Jack instead, "Are you happy, Jackie? Your big brother's back."

"Huh?" asked Jack, pulling his face out of his glass of milk. A white mustache rimmed his mouth. He lazily licked his lips. "Oh, uh, yeah." The lack of enthusiasm was evident in his voice and Forrest couldn't help but grin. Jack couldn't give too shits less if Howard was home or not. Howard was more or less a stranger to Jack, who was barely six years old when Howard went off to war.

Emmy yawned into Ellie May's neck and she rubbed circles on the little girl's back. "You sleepy, baby girl? You wanna take a little nap?"

Emmy nodded, another yawn escaping her tiny mouth. Ellie May took the girl to their room, kicking the door shut with her foot. She laid Emmy on the bed, pulling the ribbon from her hair. Immediately, Emmy burrowed her head in the pillow, fisting the quilt and tucking it under her arms. Ellie May giggled and patted Emmy's head affectionately. "Sleep tight, sweet girl."

Ellie May knelt to return the ribbon to the box where the rest of her hairbows sat. The box was in the bottom drawer of their dresser beside the old mason jar. As Ellie May put the ribbon away, she eyed the jar, the dark clump of wood jumping out at her. For a moment, she was still; she has completely forgotten about the mysterious clump of wood. Unscrewing the lid, she retrieved the gnarled wood and closed the drawer. Back in the kitchen, Forrest and Jack were digging into their egg sandwiches, Era nowhere to be seen.

"Forrest," mumbled Ellie May. "When you're done can I have a word with you before you head back out to the field?"

His food paused halfway between his mouth and plate, Forrest gave a grunt and a nod before he continued to scarf the sandwich down. Ellie May waited on the couch, her legs folded beneath her. She turned the wood over and over in the palms, her fingers running over the bumpy surface.

"Where did you get that?" Ellie May's head snapped up. Forrest was frozen in the doorway, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. His face was drawn hard, not in anger but rather in shock. He took a staggering step forward and repeated himself. "Ellie May, _where _did you get that?"

"They found it on you when you were brought into Rocky Mount. They threw it away but…" Her words trailed off momentarily. She stumbled a bit and extended the moldy wood to him. "I don't know why I took it."

Forrest crossed and took the outstretched object. He held the familiar figure, cradling it tenderly in his large palm. He ran his thumb over the edge, a sigh falling off his lips. The last time someone else has touched this, he'd nearly beat his little brother unconscious. He glanced at Ellie May. "They threw it away?"

"Thought it was trash from the sawmill."

The Bondurant boy hesitated before taking a seat beside her. He held up the wood, the light from the open window glinting off it's hard edges. "This used to be a soldier figurine. He was on a horse, his sword drawn. My grandfather made it. He used to pittle around with a blade, made a hundred of these things. When he died, I took them. Buried 'em back in the woods."

"What happened to it?" It looked more like a misshapen walnut than the carving of a soldier.

"Exposure," he said lightly. "Rain, mostly. And age. This is the only one left."

"He meant a lot to you," assumed Ellie May softly.

Forrest's hand closed around the clump of wood. A minute passed and he slipped the figure into the breast pocket of his shirt. He placed his hand on her knee. "Thank you for getting it back."

"I'm sorry I didn't return it sooner. To be honest, I'd kinda forgotten about it."

Forrest nodded, "S'alright." He stood, stretching his thick, long limbs. He gazed out the window. His father was bent over in the tobacco field. Jack was back and forth between the barn and chicken coop, feeding the animals. Forrest thought about the night he'd found Jack playing with the figures in the woods. He'd been so angry. It was a miracle he hadn't blacken the little boy's eye. But he honestly couldn't help it. Those figurines were his, something he'd shared with his late grandfather. He could remember sitting in his grandfather's lap as the old man smoothly carved the intricate details into the soldiers. Forrest could perfectly recall the intimate features of each individual piece. The broken legs, the desperate faces, the poised guns. The lump he kept now had been his favorite. Something about the horse, maybe.

With a sigh, Forrest turned his back on the window and peered down at Ellie May. "He meant more than a lot," he said simply before he left the room and returned to work.

After supper Ellie May found herself alone with Forrest once more. They were settled on the back porch, her in the porch swing, him in the rocker. The last heat waves of summer had faded and the cool breeze of autumn wafted over the cascading hilltops of Franklin County. Ellie May pulled her sweater tighter around her, the very sweater give to her by Forrest last Christmas. She wondered how Forrest was handled his big brother's return. He had been silent on the subject so far, not wanting to discuss such matters in front of his family. At the moment he was musing silently, eyes sweeping over the family farm land. Ellie May waited patiently. Lord knows, Forrest would speak when he was ready.

A doe appeared at the edge of the forest, its little nose in the dirt as it sniffed along the tobacco field. The small creature was a beautiful white tail, just a baby by the looks of it; and sure enough, seconds later a second deer emerged. The momma followed closely behind her young one, much more alert and focused. Forrest and Ellie May watched the lingering animals, small grins on their lips. When the deer grew bored and disappeared once again into the wood, Forrest turned to his companion. "Howard ain't the same. The war changed him."

The young girl smiled sadly. "War often does."

"He told momma he was going to see Lucy." The stern frown on the Bondurant boy's face said he believed otherwise. "He's up in the mountains somewhere drinking himself away. Ain't been to see that woman yet."

"Does Lucy know he's here?"

"Doubt it. Momma'll probably give her a call in a day or two." The unrelenting weariness on Forrest's face cast a great age to him. He suddenly looked less like a strapping youngman and more like a grandpa withering away from a spent life. But that was the magnificence of Forrest Bondurant. He could be so removed. He lived his life privately; his business was his own. But in the same token, he cared so much about the ones he loved, that he took on a certain responsibility for their happiness and wellbeing. He was the watchful eye in the affairs of his family, a sort of guardian. That ability to care, to love so much, withholding nothing back, was part of what made him so dear to Ellie May.

When the sunset, Forrest stood and beckoned for Ellie May to follow. Their home was quiet, the rest of the family already retired for the night. Forrest walked Ellie May to her bedroom door. She cupped his face, his boyish stubble tickling her fingers and palm. Tenderly, she stroked his cheek with her thumb and whispered, "I know it'll be difficult, but try and get some rest tonight. Don't think about Howard or what the war done to him…just, sleep, alright?"

His unwavering gaze bore into her. Politely, Forrest dipped his head. "Yes ma'am. G'night, Ellie May."

She kissed his cheek right near the corner of his mouth and her lips linger for an eternity. "Goodnight."

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**I might have teased you all a bit. Howard doesn't actually make an appearance in this chapter but he's in the next one! Quite a bit, actually. I hope you enjoyed this nonetheless.**

**Just to clarify a few things, it's been four months since the wood chopping. It's now October and Forrest is off the crutches. He has also already squared things with Clyde. That will be explained later; it just didn't fit right here. If you have any questions, feel free to leave them in a review and I will answer as soon as possible. **


	9. Chapter 9

**As promised, this chapter is packed full of Howard and, of course, dear Forrest. Be forewarned, Howard's totally broody. Like, Robert Pattinson broody. (Is that how you spell Pattinson?) But unlike R Pattz, Howard actually has reason. In the book it's heavily pointed at that Howard has PTSD from the war. PTSD being Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A lot of soldiers get it but living back then, things like PTSD weren't accepted. If you couldn't handle war you were a pansy and if it messed you up mentally, you were often sent off to a mental clinic. It's really quite awful to think about. These men fought for our country and then were judged for being a little jostled afterward. **

**Okay, sorry, off the soap box. Anyhoo, thanks again for your awesome support. Thank you so much to those who repeatedly share their thoughts. Your input is always great and always taken into consideration. Seriously, I love you guys. **

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Chapter Eight

Three days passed without Ellie May so much as seeing hind or hair of Howard Bondurant. However, she had heard plenty of rumors popping up all over town. Folks talkin' 'bout the take-no-shit days of Howard's misspent youth; days when he would whoop men twice his age and size; days when he would scamper off with some farmer's daughter, intent on corrupting her; days when he would outdrink mountain men, his belly full of white lightening.

Ellie May tried to not listen to the nonsense. She knew to take rumors at face value for what they were, plain country gossip. But she'd seen the toughness of Forrest first hand, had heard what he'd said about the war changing his brother, and Ellie May couldn't help but wonder just which Howard she was going to meet. That is, if he ever showed up again. As fate would have it, she'd get her answer a bit sooner than she'd like.

She was squatted at the picnic table that sat in front of the tool shed cleaning the fish Papa and the boys brought home for dinner. They'd managed to make off with a pretty decent load. Papa and Forrest caught two smallmouth bass and three trout a piece, Forrest also catching a black crappie. Jack proudly suckered in five black crappie but was disappointed that he didn't catch a bass, too. Using a dull kitchen knife, Ellie May scraped the scales off one of the trout. The knife moved from tail to gills, shredding the scales off in little flecks. She then sliced the trout's stomach, scraping out the insides with a wooden spoon. She chopped off the head and tossed the fish into the bucket of water at the end of the table. Wiping her hands, she counted the remaining fish. Three more to go.

Beside the tool shed, Jack and Cricket were chasing one another, making little pistols with their fingers. The young boys were playing Cowboys and Indians. This time, Cricket was the Cowboy and he was trying to rope in Indian Jack. "C'mere, Injun! Ain't no use runnin'! We gone get you either way!"

Jack jumped over Ellie May's bucket of water, climbing on top of the picnic table. He let out a great holler, making his voice waver like an Indian's call, repeatedly slapping his hand over his mouth. "You ain't never gonna get me! I'm faster than the wind! That's why they call me Runs with Horses!"

"Jack Bondurant," snapped Ellie May as she slapped at his scrawny ankles. "Get off this table right now! You have lost your mind!"

"Yeah, Runs with Horses! Get down and fight me like a man!" urged Cricket as he ran at the table, snatching at Jack's legs. The impact of Cricket slamming into the table made Ellie May's grip on the knife slip and the blade dug into her palm. She hissed low in the back of her throat, dropping the trout and knife. She grabbed a cleaning rag and pressed it hard to her palm.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, Miss Ellie May," stammered Cricket, he and Jack wide eyed and fearful.

Ellie May gritted her teeth. Her palm stung like hell. "S'alright, Cricket. Do me a favor and fetch me a clean glass of water." There was no way in hell she was going to wash her wound in the fish water. Cricket did as she said, Jack running back and forth after him, and the boys watched as she poured the water over the cut and wiped at the blood. It was still bleeding and she thought she might need Belva to sew it up. Wrapping the cloth around her hand, she shooed the boys and made then return to their play.

"Bet that hurt like a bitch," said a rough, strangled voice behind her.

Facing the newcomer, Ellie May nearly gasped at the sight. Howard Bondurant was a giant man, broadly built and more than six and a half feet tall. His massive frame was wrapped tight like a ghoulish nightbreed and lack of nutrition from eating only war rations had hollowed out his face, the flesh curving in under his eyes and cheeks. There was something terrifying in the deadlike quality of his face. The colossal man eyed her carefully. "You're Ellie."

"Ellie May," she corrected. "You must be Howard. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He snorted, the mason jar of corn whiskey sloshing precariously in his hand. "Is it?"

He swayed suddenly and stumbled a few steps closer. Ellie May could smell the familiar stench of liquor, her chest clenching painfully. She wasn't one to tell people how to live their lives but after watching her father succumb to the evils of booze, she couldn't help but feel a bit disgusted with the eldest Bondurant son. Howard brought the jar to his lip, the dirty liquid pouring down his throat and dribbling down his chin. He swallowed thickly, the never ending burn of mountain liquor warming him from his core. "You enjoyin' sleepin' in my bed?"

"Howard." They turned and saw Forrest coming out of the barn. He eyed his older brother, took in the cut on Ellie May's hand. "Go home, Howard."

Howard belched, raising a limp hand. "Now-"

Forrest swiftly cut off his brother's weak, drunken protest, "Go _home_, Howard. Go see your wife. Go see Lucy."

Howard blinked slowly. The mason jar fell from his hand and rolled in the fallen leaves. He cleared his throat, his eyes darting about. Finally, his gaze came to rest on Forrest. He gave a slow, comprehensible nod and he muttered his wife's name like a foreign memory as he stumbled off toward the road. Howard clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he passed, his head hung low. They watched him go and when he was out of sight, Ellie May released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Forrest approached her, kneeling beside the bench and taking her wounded hand in his. He peeled back the cloth and eyed the damage. "Did he do this?"

"What?" gasped Ellie May. "No. Forrest, he didn't touch me. It was an accident. Cricket and Jack were messing around and bumped into the table while I was scaling the fish."

Forrest's jaw flexed and he nodded, a low grunt rumbling in his throat. His automatic assumption that Howard had hurt her concerned Ellie May. Did he think his brother was dangerous? Had being in France really changed him that much? She laced her fingers through his and gave a gentle squeeze. "Do I need to put stock in those rumors?"

Forrest frowned. "He's big and drunk, but he ain't mean. Least not to anyone who don't deserve it."

"Then why are you so unsettled?"

The muscles in his jaw twitched as he struggled for an answer. When he seemed unable to produce such, he pitifully laid his head down in her lap, his arms curling around her waist. Ellie May ran her fingers through Forrest's short hair, dusting out bits of clay and sawdust. She massaged her scalp with the pads of her fingers, paying particular attention to the tightness around his temple. "Maybe," she murmured softly. "You're worried that Howard could control himself before but the war has changed that. But you won't know until you see it."

"I don't want him to do something stupid, Ellie. Mess up his whole life and Lucy's just cause he can't control it no more." His voice was muffled and she could feel his lips moving against her leg, his hot breath tickling her skin even through the skirt of her dress.

"Then I guess we just got to watch out for him is all. Least until we know he's going to be alright." But they weren't able to follow through with their good intentions as Howard was hardly ever at the farm to be looked after. The eldest Bondurant spent the first several weeks of his less than glorious return home bouncing between stills on Turkey Cock Mountain getting drunker than a skunk just about every day of the week. Sometimes he passed through the family farm for a day or two, maybe even went to see his wife, but mostly he spent time slinking off into the night to get drunk with his pal Danny Mitchell, who had arrived back from the war just days after Howard. It seemed the days Ellie May agonized over his arrival were more than wasted. To her, Howard remained a stranger.

When December rolled around Howard seemed to have a change of heart. He showed up at the farm and intended to make his stay. Howard never spoke of what happened to him in France or aboard the ship, and no one ever asked. He merely stomped through the house, an angular shadow that crouched at the table and quietly inhaled his food. He'd work the fields with the men and politely open doors for the women, but other than that, he was more of an observer than a member of the family. One chilly evening during Howard's stay, Papa Bondurant decided he was tired of looking at the scraps of wood left over from their remodel of the chicken house. He got Forrest and Howard to move the broken lumber to a back corner of the land where the ground was devoid of any signs of life, only packed clay. When the sun set, Papa poured half a gallon of petrol on the pile and struck a match. A blaze flared up like somethin' you ain't never seen and the Bondurants gathered around the bon fire to waste the night away amongst good company.

Somehow or another, Ellie May had gotten herself situated right next to Howard, the silent giant. She watched him kick at the fire with his foot, his expression curious. Dangerous. She cleared her throat, leaning forward on the stump. "How's Lucy?"

It was the only thing she could think of to say. The fact that he had a wife was just about the only thing she really knew about the eldest Bondurant boy. Well, that and the fact that he drank rotgut like it was mother's milk. Nevertheless, this was apparently the wrong thing to say as Howard's eyes darkened and he shot her an amused glance. He seemed to take pleasure in that Ellie May shrank away from him. The massive man snorted, and he snatched up a stick to probe the raging inferno, the flames licking at the velvet night sky. "Word around town is Clyde Eller got himself into a big ole mess with Forrest. Heard old Forrest beat Eller like he stole somethin'. Folks seem to think the whole thing was about you."

Ellie May licked her lips, her jaw tightening. She didn't like the way Howard insinuated that it was her fault. "Well I reckon Eller got what he did because he put Forrest in the hospital for two months. But, hell, I could be wrong. Not like Forrest'll talk about it either way, so what can I do?"

Howard gave half a laugh, a rare smile lighting up his face. "Yeah, that sounds like Forrest. He always was the quiet type."

Suddenly, Ellie May saw a strange opportunity. Howard could tell her about Forrest. And not like his sisters would. They could only tell her the surface details: how he liked his omelet, which hand he wrote with, etc. But Ellie May was willing to bet anything that Howard knew just what made Forrest tick. Now, if only she could get him to tell her.

She crossed her ankles, trying to seem casual. "Has he always been so sure of himself? Forrest, I mean."

"Shoot," Howard snorted. "That boy was born with his mind made up. Even when he was a youngin', smaller than Emmy, Forrest couldn't be told how to do a damn thing. He was gone do shit his way and there wasn't nothin' no one could do about it."

Howard got a reminiscent glaze in his eyes. He shot her a grin. "This one time, Forrest couldn't a been more than ten back then. Well, Papa was tryin' to show Forrest how to kill a sow an-"

"What?" gasped Ellie May. Forrest learned how to kill a pig when he was ten? He was just a boy!

The eldest Bondurant furrowed his brow. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

Ellie May couldn't help but laugh a bit. She apologized and insisted he continue. "Thank you. Now, Papa wanted Forrest to use a boning knife. But Forrest wouldn't have none of it. He got Papa's old bolt-action .22 rifle and shot the sow straight between the eyes."

"Why did he want Forrest to use the knife? Wasn't shooting him less painful for the pig?"

Howard looked irritated by her continuous interruptions. He sighed, shaking his head. "A pig is a pig. You gone eat it anyway. I ain't sayin' you gotta torture the thing but don't beat yourself up about hurtin' it. You gotta drain the blood out of the sow before you can cut it up to process the meat. Quickest way to do that is to cut its throat and then string it up. Since you gonna cut it's throat anyway, why waste the bullet?"

Ellie May felt her lips curling in repugnance. "That is a terrible outlook. That poor animal."

Howard waved his hands dismissively. "You're missin' the whole point! Look, Forrest shot the damn thing and Papa whooped him for it, 'cause he specifically told Forrest to use the knife. Well, a week later, it was time to kill another but instead of using the knife, again, ole Forrest shot the sow. As you can image, our old man wasn't too happy about it. He tore the hind off of Forrest like you wouldn't believe. The next day they went out to the pig pen and Papa thrust that boning knife in Forrest's hand and said, 'Boy, you gone stand here 'til you do what I say.'"

"And?" demanded Ellie May enthusiastically when Howard paused.

"And Forrest refused. That boy got two more whoopin's and wasn't allowed supper for two days."

"My Lord," muttered Ellie May. Howard nodded, "But, damned if Forrest don't shoot every pig he kills to this day."

"What the hell you talkin' 'bout, Howard?" grumbled the boy in question as he finished shoveling the last load of used wood onto the burning pile. Howard shot Ellie May a wink, "Aw, nothin', baby brother."

Forrest narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure. Ellie, is this moron botherin' you?"

"Look at that, stickin' up for your girl, huh, Forrest?" teased Howard. The oaf of a man slung an arm around Ellie May's shoulders. He jostled the girl affectionately. "We's just gettin' to know each other, is all."

Ellie May grinned, her eyes rolling as she shoved the massive man away. "We're fine, Forrest. Is that the last of it?"

He nodded, dusting off his palms on his dungarees. "Yep. Should burn to about midnight so we elected dear Howard here to sleep outside, make sure the fire don't trail blaze."

"Oh, well you are too kind," muttered Howard in false appreciation. He shot Ellie May a wink and released her, slumping back against a pine tree. Though it felt sort of childish, Ellie May grinned at Forrest, joy swelling inside of her. She had actually talked to Howard and she reckoned he kinda liked her. He'd told her a story, something personal, and wasn't at all mean or hateful. Forrest caught the dopey smile on her face and chuckled. _Leave it to Ellie to get happily riled up over a storytellin' 'bout a ten year old boy getting the snot beat outta him._

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**I would just like to say that whoever proofread this (um, that would be me) was super lazy. And she (again, me) would like to apologize for any typos and mishaps she didn't catch. Cause she was being lazy. She (still me) should probably do something about that. **


	10. Chapter 10

**I took a lot longer with this chapter than I normally do. The tone of the story is about to shift drastically and I wasn't completely sure where I wanted to go with this. I tinkered with it for quite some time and I have to say I like where it's at. I hope you all agree. **

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Chapter Nine 

Howard's slouching form became a near constant force on the Bondurant farm, though there was the occasional night where his cot would remain untouched and they'd find him stumbling in for breakfast the next morning, his breath rank with the foul stench of booze. He became a recognized presence in their lives once again. He and Ellie May hadn't exactly become bosom buddies, but he was there and that was a start. It was strange, a slow and painful progression toward building some sort of amiable relationship. Ellie May did not instantly connect with Howard like she had his brothers and sisters, but she was forced to count her blessings. At least he was there. At least he was trying.

He wouldn't admit it, but since his older brother's return, Forrest had been teetering on the edge of sane and sick with stress. Most nights he worried himself ill over his brother's affairs. Fortunately, since Howard took up boarding on the farm Forrest was able to keep an eye on him, able to assure himself Howard wasn't up to no good. Gradually, the tension slid off Forrest's brow, rolled down his shoulders, shook itself off the worn soles of his boots. He could sleep easier knowing all it took was one glance across the field and there he'd see his big brother chopping wood, raking leaves, or lugging hay.

Yeah, Howard's return had become old news and now they were moving on as a family. Momma and Papa Bondurant couldn't have felt more blessed; all of their children were together, healthy and happy, and that was the way it should'a been. Unfortunately, life couldn't be perfect forever and before they knew it summer was upon them once again and the warm weather brought the Spanish Lady Flu along with it.

The epidemic swept through the south, into the deepest hollows and mountain ridges of Franklin County. The county went into self-imposed quarantine having experienced this magnitude of illness before when smallpox and diphtheria ravaged the countryside. All activity came to a standstill as families huddled, safe in their homes. Papa Bondurant was forced to close his general store and unlike the summers before, the Bondurant children had to stay close to the farm. No more swimming in one of the dozens of creeks dividing Franklin County, no more Sunday Services at Snow Creek Baptist, no more visits with their neighbors, the Brodies and the Deshazos. Hell, it was almost like there was no more life period.

All across Franklin County bodies were dropping like flies in the outrageous summer heat, some from the Flu but most from starvation. Few farms in the area were self-sustaining. Mostly, folks grew specialty crops and depended on trade. When the county shutdown, all trade ceased and many families were left to wilt away. But, thankfully, the Bondurants had plenty of dried and canned goods from the general store, and scores of preserved meat from the farm. Momma Bondurant figured they had enough food to last them through the upcoming fall and winter, which was more than anyone else in Blackwater Creek could say that's for sure.

In spite of the awful epidemic, summer passed in a haze of good, full-body laughs and family meals around the Bondurant supper table. Then winter hit and Blackwater Creek was still suffering the last leg of the Lady Flu. By about this time Ellie May had completely forgotten about her father and had fallen utterly in love with Forrest Bondurant. There was something in the way he smiled at his siblings, in the way he playfully punched his little brother, in the way he let Emmy climb over him like he was an oak out in the yard, in the way he silently endured his own suffering as well as the suffering of others. Ellie May saw a lot of goodness in Forrest. Maybe it was left over gratitude from the ordeal with her father; he'd practically rescued her from the man, after all. Or perhaps it was because Forrest had always been a little easier on Ellie May. He was different with her; he didn't tease quite so hard, wasn't lude or obnoxious in her presence – the way he was with his brothers on occasion. Then there were the shared glances and the quiet words passed on late nights when the others were already snuggled away in their beds. In was in these private, secret moments that Ellie May suspected Forrest might love her, too.

One night in early December, George Brodie hammered on the Bondurant's door in the middle of the night. Ellie May thought she was having another nightmare about her father, something that hadn't happen in over a year, but the hurried, pounding knocks continued. Through the door Ellie May heard Papa's growl of a curse, "Goddamnit, Brodie!"

Ellie May rose and snatched up a robe, shushing Emmy back to sleep. Stepping into the hall, Ellie May collided with Forrest's bare back, his skin milky in the hazy night. The Bondurant boy cast a downward glance at her, his eyes sharp and focused. Over his shoulder she saw George Brodie knelt on their porch, his shoulders shaking as sobs shook his body. Brodie lifted his head and said something to Papa that Ellie May couldn't quite understand but the break in his voice was unmistakable. Papa Bondurant's shoulders tensed and for a moment all was still. Then, he turned and spoke, "Ellie May, go get momna."

Nodding once, Ellie May retrieved Momma, shaking the older woman gently in her sleep. She briefly relayed what little she knew and in a flash of lightening the family matriarch was strolling out of the room and into the kitchen. George Brodie was ushered inside so they could close the door against the harsh, Virginia snow. The man lingered at the edge of the table, his dirty face damp with tears. Momma fiddled with the coffee pot. "Now, George, what's this all about?"

The man's lip quivered, "I-I'm sorry, Dorothy. I just didn't know what else t-to do. Gertrude…she started convulsin' in her sleep, moanin' and hollerin'. I went in to check on 'er and there was blood everywhere. O-on her pillow and...and in her hair and on h-her night gown. And my wife she ain't doin' too good. She's practically d-_dead_, been in a sleep-coma for five days. I gotta get 'em some h-help and I didn't know where else to go. Pl-" His voice cracked, a fresh batch of tears trailing down his cheeks. "P-please, y'all gotta help me."

Papa cut his wife a look. They both knew they had to do something. The Brodies had been good neighbors to them for well over twenty years. They couldn't just let the man's family die. By about this time, Belva and Era had heard enough of the ruckus and joined them in the kitchen their eyes droopy with sleep. Papa eyed his family, their sleepy eyes, their disheveled hair, their rumpled clothes. His jaw steeled. He looked at George and sighed, "I'll come and bring Belva to help. We'll try to see what we can do."

"Daddy, no!" Era shrieked. She threw her arms around her sister's neck, her eyes wide. "She'll get the flu! And you, too! You can't go!"

"We gotta do something, Era," their father declared, his tone heavy with finality. Belva was the eldest, save for Howard but tonight was one of the sporadic nights where Howard hadn't been accounted for; he was most likely passed out somewhere, left in the snow to sleep off his drunken idiocy. As the next eldest, this was Belva's responsibility. Plain and simple.

Their mother parted her lips, a hot retort on the tip of her tongue, when Forrest spoke, his voice soft against the singing coffee pot. "I'll go."

A brief silence followed Forrest's interruption. Belva stared at her little brother, guilt and relief battling inside her. Ellie May and Era gazed on in horror, the latter weeping even heavier. Momma glared at her husband. She shook her head furiously, her chin beginning to quiver with rage. "I won't have it, Gran, I won't have it."

But Papa merely said, "Forrest is old enough to make his own decisions, Dorothy. The man's family is dying. If it were you over there suffering, I'd need help, too."

A few more words were had and when Forrest went to fetch a shirt and coat, Ellie May trailed after him. As his thick fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, Ellie May pleaded with him not to go. "You'll catch illness," she said. "You could _die_." But Forrest knew this already. He merely finished dressing and said, "Better me than Belva."

Ellie May felt her stomach constrict painfully. "Forrest, you don't mean that."

He paused, as if trying to decide whether she was wrong or not, when his father appeared. It was time to go. Forrest gave Ellie May a small, sort of sad smile and with a smoky oil lamp in hand, they left, the two men and the boy, stomping through the woods and over the ridge to the Brodie farm, where a family lay dying.

Papa and Forrest returned late the next afternoon. The rest of the family had spent the day in a nervous stillness. The chores were left unattended and somehow even Emmy and Jack knew that it was a solemn day. Belva and Era hid the day away, crying together in their room. Ellie May couldn't bare the sight of the weeping sisters and assisted Momma as she prepared a modest supper. "Ellie May, take this food to the table by the toolshed. I reckon them boys'll be hungry by the time they get back. Better take some soap and towels out there, too. Lord knows they're gonna need scrubbing down before they step a foot back in the house."

Ellie May braved the freezing December air and set out the chicken, biscuits, and greens on the work bench like she'd been asked. She covered the food with cloth napkins to keep in the warmth and keep out the flies. Then, she fetched a pitcher of water, soap, towels, and a few old quilts from the cupboard. Not half an hour after she'd set the meal out did Jack slap a hand on the window and shout, "Momma, they're back!"

Their mother, Jack, and Ellie May watched from the window as Papa and Forrest ate their supper out in the cold, their breath coming out in short puffs of steam. After they ate they built a fire and filled the pig trough full of water. They began to strip down. Ellie May blushed something awful and she immediately excused herself. She spun on her toes to retreat to her room but not before taking one last glance out the window. His back was to her as he peeled off his shirt and dropped his pants to the snow-covered ground. The wind bit and tore at his skin, reddening its usually tanned pallor. Ellie May attempted to memorize the way his shoulders curved, the slight narrowing of his hips, the curve of his-

Forrest had suddenly glanced back at the house. Their eyes met and Ellie May scampered away, caught.

Nothing was said about what had transpired at the Brodie home. At least not at first. That night after the awful incident, the family was huddled around the stove, grateful for the presence of their family, save Howard who had still to return. The girls were busy knitting away when their father exclaimed fatigue. He was calling it a night and told the two younger children it was time for bed. The room cleared in a matter of minutes, only Forrest, Ellie May, and Jack remaining. Papa made his rounds, locking up the house, and when he stuck his head in the family room to tell Ellie May and Forrest goodnight, his eyes narrowed. "Jack, I thought I told you to get to bed."

"Aww, daddy, just ten more minutes! I ain't sleepy yet!"

"You ain't got sense yet, either, arguing with me like that. Boy, get to bed."

Before Jack could protest, his brother piped up, "I'll make him go in a few minutes. Let him stay up."

Papa Bondurant eyed the boys wearily. He glanced at Ellie May, "Send him to bed in ten, ya hear?"

"Yes, sir," Ellie May giggled. Seemingly satisfied, their father slunk off to bed and the boys proceeded to wrestle about the family room floor, Forrest only kinda taking it easy on Jack. When it seemed the little one could take no more, they collapsed against the couch were Ellie May was laid out. "Forrest," Jack said in the ever inquiring voice of a child. "Do you have the Spanish Lady Flu?"

Ellie May tensed but Forrest simply chuckled and said nothing. Jack continued, gazing up adoringly at his older brother, "Are we going to get sick, too? Are we going to die?"

Forrest was quite for a moment. He turned to Jack, the firelight dancing dangerously on his face. "You think anything can kill the old man?" This seemed to stump Jack and when the small boy remained silent, Forrest nodded, "That's right. We're Bondurants. _Nothing_ can kill us. We'll _never _die."

Jack was sent to bed not long after and only the two teenagers remained. _Another secret night alone,_ thought Ellie May as she slid off the couch to sit on the floor beside Forrest. Their shoulders, bumped, arms aligning. Many moments passed as they glanced at one another, drinking in the company. Eventually, Ellie May tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and asked, "If I ask you what happened at the Brodie farm, will you tell me?"

She wasn't sure if she was crossing a line. Forrest was a tricky fellow. A few rules existed where he was concerned, and they were rules that only he knew. While Forrest wasn't big on sharing, he was usually a little more open to the idea of discussing things with Ellie May that he wouldn't normally share with anyone else. There were still gray areas, though; things he never spoke of, even with her. Things like what happened with Clyde Eller. Like what happened with her father. Thankfully, the Bondurant boy didn't appear bothered by her intrigue and he said, his voice low and somber, "She died…Gertrude, his daughter. We got over there and she was shaking, her whole body rattling like train tracks. She was covered in her own blood. We tried to clean her up and keep her from choking on it but…she didn't make it through the night. Mr. Brodie was distraught. That was what took so long. When she passed he went mad, storming through the house. He got his shotgun and tried to kill himself. Papa talked him down, told him he still had a wife to look after. After that he went into his room and just sat there, staring at his wife. He wouldn't move, wouldn't say anything. We buried her, Gertrude, and burned all the bloody sheets. We knew he couldn't do it."

Forrest paused for a second. "It was awful, Ellie. She was eleven years old. Eleven. Might be the worst thing I've ever seen, 'cept for…"

"Except for what?"

His stormy eyes met hers. There was a raw pain in Forrest's gaze, something deep rooted and personal. He swallowed. "'Cept for that first night Papa brought you here."

Had she really looked that awful? She could recall the details of that night and the next several days perfectly. She could feel her father's rough grip, could hear his terrible threats, smell the odor so particular to him. There was no doubt, that night would be forever burned in her memory, lingering like a bad dream in the recesses of her mind. But what she remembered most about that night was waking up in a warm bed, the sound of Jack and Emmy's gentle footfalls as they raced down the hall outside the door, the way Forrest silently slipped into the room and just stood there, so unabashed, so blatant.

"It was worth it, you know," she mumbled, her brow knitting together as the full weight of her discover washed over her.

"Whatta you mean?"

"All those nights after my mother died that I spent hating my life, hating my father, crying and fussing, wondering why God was putting me through it…it was like, that was the price I had to pay to get here." Her speech was cautious as she chose her each word carefully. "The life I have now, with you-" And though Forrest knew she meant you in the plural form, meaning his family on a whole, his heart thumped in his chest nonetheless. "-this life is so much better than any I could have had with my father, even if he _had _done right by me. Emmy and Jack, I love them. They're so full of happiness, so full of life. And Belva and Era and Momma, my father could never have done what they've done for me as far as being a woman goes. And, of course, there's your father and Howard and…and you."

Forrest's gaze roamed her face. What about him?

"Forrest, I need you. I don't know why I just do and I think I went through what I did because if I had to find a way to get here. I needed a reason for your momma and daddy to take me in. I needed a reason to escape, to escape so that I could be here…with you."

There came a low rumble from Forrest's throat as he nodded, his face pinched real tight. He was thinking hard and Ellie May felt a brief jolt of panic. Hot damn, she was scaring him away. They had spoken of their dependency on one another briefly once before, all those many months ago on that hot summer evening when Ellie May had shown up on the Bondurant farm, her hands clenched at her side and her chin stubbornly jutted out. Even then, neither offered explanation as to why they were so drawn, no explanation to the desperate cling that held them together. But times were changing. People were dying and life was offering all new perspectives.

Ellie May glared at her hands. "You know, sometimes I really hate that you're so damn quiet. Her eyes shifted to his face just in time to see the corners of his mouth twitch upward. He gave a silent chuckle and gruffly muttered, "Apologies."

She huffed. "Well, I just meant tha-"

"I know what you meant," he murmured, the deep timbers of his voice echoing through the quiet house. "Guess I got a different view on that night s'all."

"But you know I wouldn't be here if that hadn't happened. You realize that?"

"I do. Don't mean I gotta like, err, accept what he done to you."

Ellie May frowned. "I didn't say that."

"Know that, too," Forrest offered her a sad grin before taking her hand and being it to his lips. He placed a sweet kiss across her knuckles. "You know I saw you the other night…"

Her lips pursed in confusion. The other night?

Forrest gave a wolfish grin. "Gotta say, I never took you for the peeping Tom type."

Aw, hell. In a single second, the young girkl's face flushed two shades darker than a Tennessee tomato. She swatted his chest, drawing her knees inward to curl around them in embarrassment. "You were the one getting naked outside! You knew we were watching!"

A deep laugh rumbled inside Forrest and his shoulders shook. He slung an arm around Ellie May's shoulders and drew her in despite her weak, halfhearted protests. "Aw, don't be all shy. I don't mind," he winked at her. "Sides I figure you was just tryin' to get square."

"Get square? For what?"

"That night Papa brought you home. You was naked, remember?"

Her crimson skin darkened further and she furrowed her head in her arms. She wanted to holler in embarrassment, let the shyness seep out in a bellowed yell. "Your momma let you see me naked?"

"Ellie, who do you think carried you inside?" he teased, the words low and seductive.

Her head snapped up, eyes the size of a dinner plate. "You what?!"

"Sssh," whispered Forrest as he struggled to stifle his laughter. "You gonna wake up the whole damn place."

"You're the one who brought me inside?" hissed Ellie May. "Why? I was naked!"

"Oh I am well aware," Forrest murmured. A smile slowly wormed its way onto his face and he shrugged, "It wasn't proper for Papa to do it. You were a naked little girl, he was a grown married man."

"He got me in the truck, didn't he?" growled Ellie May. Her stomach was doing all kinds of flips and she was having trouble breathing. Forrest had carried her naked body. Her _naked_ body. And she'd felt bad for _looking_ at his!

Her question gave Forrest pause. His brow drew together, "Ain't never thought of that. Either way, don't matter I reckon. I still brought you in."

"Why didn't you tell me?" groaned Ellie May, dropping her head to his shoulder. She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his itchy, wool coat. "I can't believe your momma let you do that."

Forrest tugged at a piece of her stringy brown hair. "Ain't no reason to get fussy over it. It had to be done. And what reason was there for you to peek?"

"Female curiosity," she mumbled into his chest, her voice muffled. Forrest snickered, "I didn't quite catch that."

"Oh, shut up, Forrest."

They were quiet for a moment, the fire in the stove dwindling down. The embers crackled softly, the poplar wood snapping as the flames gradually died. Forrest continued to twirl her hair around his fingers, twisting and tugging at the loose strands. She wormed her arm around his waist and hugged him, her breath eventually evening out as sleep consumed her. He knew she couldn't have been very comfortable, that he should put her in her bed. But he couldn't bring himself to rise. He wanted nothing more than to stay there, cradling her small body while she slept peacefully in his arms. Forrest never was good at sleeping with someone else in the room. When Jack came along and they were forced to share a bed, Forrest went without sleep for months. He was a naturally suspicious creature and sleeping with someone else there left one vulnerable. Vulnerability was something Forrest hated.

Then there was Ellie May, snoozing soundly in his arms with no protest, no whines or jolts. Just a gentle up-and-down motion in her chest and a contentness to her face.

Forrest brushed the harsh pad of his forefinger over her cheek, down the side of her face, and over her jaw. He tilted her chin up, noted the wrinkle in her nose, and pressed a firm kiss to her lips. He loved her so much. He could feel it in every part of him. It wasn't right, being so possessive over another human being's life but Forrest didn't much care. She was his, everyone else be damned. And if there ever came a day when she turned away from him, he would let her go. But he would always be there, watching from the shadows, her protector. Because that was what they had agreed on and Forrest Bondurant always kept his word.

* * *

The next morning Howard returned to the house, rumpled and surly. He had spent the night sprawled under a pile of burlap sacks being a filling station in Boone's Mill, sleeping off a half liter of white mile. He gulped a cold breakfast of biscuits and ham on the front porch, wiping his hands on his greasy overalls, Jack sitting quietly beside him, drinking in the sour smell of his older brother. Howard stood and gave Jack a good pop on the back of the neck before lumbering off to the barn to help their father with feeding.

A few days later Jack's mother, Forrest, Belva, and Era were all stricken with the flu.

* * *

**So there it is, folks. Sad, right? I'm gonna let you know, it's only gonna get worse. Things are about to get very sad. Prepare. Grab the Kleenex, and the chocolate, and the sappy, chick flicks. Once more, I just want to say thank you to everyone supporting this and taking the time to share your thoughts. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. **

**p.s. This is very poorly edited. Again. I'm sorry. **


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapter covers a big stretch of time and some really serious stuff, so I wanted to take my time with it. That being said, sorry it's been so long but hopefully the result was worth it. A major thanks to: **guest, Dotty Vintage, 26RH, Captain Nny, Laura Page Turner, annechou59, country strong '89, **and **Kay1104. **As always, your more than kind words are so dearly loved and appreciated. I'm so glad you adore the story as much as I do! This story, without a doubt, has to be the most emotionally exhausting work I've ever done; and it makes me so happy to see, from your words, that it shows. **

**Enjoy. **

* * *

Chapter Ten 

The following days passed quickly. The entire family was in a state of awful sorrow and fear. Jack felt like he was still in the twilight before sleep and wakefulness. Emmy knelt by the water pump, wringing the laundry between her tiny, red fingers as she rocked back and forth. Howard sat awkwardly on the front step, long legs angled in front of him, hat in his hands, his slab-like face blank. Their father stood quietly for hours in the dim hallway like a ghost. Ellie May lingered at the kitchen sink, eyes fixed on Forrest's bedroom door, her chest permanently clenched.

Their mother, Belva, Era, and Forrest were bedridden, their skin puckered a strange shade of blue. The Spanish Lady Flu had struck them down mercilessly. They were exhausted but couldn't sleep. Their stomachs perpetually churned with hunger but they could hold down no food. They were miserable and there was nothing to be done except wait.

On the morning his mother died, Jack stood by his father's chair and Papa Bondurant put his hand on his son's shoulder as he gazed out the window toward the long road. Howard leaned against the stove, arms crossed over his broad chest, frowning at the floor. Beside him stood Ellie May, a sobbing Emmy clinging tightly to her chest.

"Oh, y'all," moaned their father. His voice was disturbing, possibly more disturbing than the sight of their dead mother laid out on the floor covered with a quilt. It was raw and pained, agony seeping through as it quaked with a hurt they'd never known their father to feel. "It's all gone."

Howard raised his head and stared at his father.

"All the goodness has gone out of the world," he continued pitifully. There were tears on his father's face and Jack's heart squeezed like a fist. Though he tried hard not to, he broke down and sobbed on his father's shoulder.

Belva died a day later, followed immediately by Era.

Finally, Papa had suffered all he could stomach. He locked himself away in the bedroom he'd shared with his wife and stayed there for nearly four days. He could not take the loss of the woman he loved dearly, much less the loss of his two eldest daughters, too. The pain was more than he could take and Howard feared his father might do something drastic. Something like take his own life. On the morning of the fourth day, Howard was seconds from breaking the door down when he heard the floorboards creak and the door opened. Though his father looked directly into his eyes, he saw straight through Howard and turned without a word, walking straight out the back door.

Forrest lay in bed like a stone that week, his face impassive and leaden, refusing to eat anything in spite of Ellie May's pleas and cries. She was so worried for him. First his mother, then both of the girls, was Forrest next? But suddenly one morning he rose from his bed. When he emerged, his body gaunt and wasted, his eyes sunken, to join what remained of his family at the breakfast table, it was as if his strength had withered and focused itself like a leather strap. He was testing the last little bit of life within him.

Their sisters' bodies had joined their mother's on the floor beneath the quilt. Nobody said anything.

* * *

After the loss of the other women, Ellie May was forced to fulfill the caretaker role for the younger ones, more so Emmy than Jack, who shadowed Forrest day in and day out. She also took over as the leader of the household. She prepared the meals, dictated the little ones' chores, oversaw the laundry and housekeeping. She became the surrogate mother.

It was easier at first than she imagined. Her body ran on instinct and pure resolve. She pushed herself, trying to accomplish alone the tasks that it had previously taken four women to complete, because it had to be done. She ran on little-to-no sleep, shutting off all emotion and acting without thought. Her moves were compulsory, automatic, and when the next morning came she'd rise to do it all over again, despite the sleepy sting in her eyes and the ache in her limbs. There was no other option.

It seemed that no one attempted to cope with the massive loss but, after that first week, no one mourned outright, either. Grieving was too painful of a reminder, so everyone continued on as if nothing had changed. Yet, nothing was the same. Papa withdrew into himself, as did Forrest. Howard had once again taken to keeping away from the house, staying out all through the night; when he returned sometime near dawn, he reeked of corn liquor and collapsed into his bed like a dead man. Jack was often left alone to himself, aimlessly wandering in the barns, long fields, and wooden stretches that made up the farm. Emmy was in a constantly teary-eyed state, whimpering to herself and rocking in place. _Always_ rocking. And Ellie May cleaned.

With their father in his nearly comatose state, Forrest doubled his efforts on the farm, doing what his father no longer could. His body was still weak from the sickness and in the evenings his limbs and torso ached with a rawness so strong he trembled from it. The pads of his fingers were cracked, the skin of his knuckles chaffing. His calves and shoulders twitched at night as he lay in bed. But like Ellie May, he pushed on through the pain and exhaustion because the work had to be done and if he didn't do it, who would?

Howard tried to help his little brother in their father's stead, and Forrest knew he was honestly trying. But most mornings when Forrest would rise before dawn, his body groaning, preparing for a laborious day, Howard would be just arriving home, his eyes bloodshot and weary, his breath sour. He wouldn't see Forrest as he stomped through the kitchen to pass out on his cot, his giant body falling limply to the floor. Howard would sleep off the white lightening for a few hours before joining Forrest in the fields. Wasted from a night of drinking, his work was sluggish and half-assed. This meant that Forrest often had to go back behind Howard to correct his sloppy work, making his big brother's presence more of a hindrance than a helping hand.

They carried on this way for roughly two weeks. Then, Forrest decided he'd had enough. Forrest snapped on ole Howard like a bear trap, his face glowing red, the veins in his neck and forehead springing to life. He was sick of Howard's shit, he'd yelled. If Howard didn't quit drinkin' he might as well stop coming home.

'Course, Howard didn't rightly like that too much and he seized Forrest by his uppers arms, "What did you say to me, boy?!"

It was the first time Howard had ever laid hands on Forrest in anger. Granted, it was also the first time Forrest had ever blown a gasket. Even when his temper burned white hot so bad his hands shook and he saw red, Forrest had always been able to maintain control of himself. But in the days following the loss of his mother and sisters, most of his efforts were spent controlling the swelling grief within him, with little thought given to much else.

Though his body was still recovering, and in spite of Howard being nearly a foot taller, Forrest managed to rip himself from his big brother's hold and bring the other man to his knees. "Don't you put your hands on me like that again, you hear me?" growled Forrest, his chest heaving heavily as he refrained from striking his brother about the face.

Howard, shocked stupid that Forrest had been able to knock him down, teetered on the ground attempting to regain composure. He grumbled and narrowed his eyes, climbing to his feet. He pointed a finger at Forrest, "Don't you go gettin' a big head. Only reason you was able to do that 'cause I'm-"

"Lit?" offered Forrest. He'd calmed a bit and all the previous traces of rage had left his voice. "Yeah, I know. That's the problem. Howard, you can't keep on like this."

"You ain't my daddy, For'est," grunted Howard.

"You damn right, I ain't. And that man in there," he motioned the house. "He ain't our daddy, either. Not no more. He's changed, Howard. We all have and that's somethin' we gone have to account for. I can't keep picking up after you. Now, either get your shit together and sober up, or we're gonna lose the farm."

His big brother scoffed, bitterly muttering, "Ain't you bein' a little dramatic?" But there was a scared truth in Howard's eyes.

Forrest licked his lip thoughtfully. He said nothing, his mind and body spent, but gazed at his brother. Howard was amazed that his little brother, someone years younger and feet smaller than him, could pin him with one stare and make him feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. Guilt rippled through him, mixing with the bits of mountain liquor that lingered in his blood. Howard's lips curled. "Fuck you, Forrest," he spat. And with that, he turned and slunk off into the woods. Five days would pass before they'd see him again.

* * *

About three months before Forrest and the women contracted the Spanish Lady Flu, the eighteenth amendment to the Constitution was ratified. Prohibition, they called it, because the new amendment _prohibited_ making, selling, and transporting any and all liquor within, to, or from, the United States. Basically, the government was tryin' to outlaw booze in America. As most folks can image, that didn't go too well. In major cities there was big uproar but mostly everyone turned a blind eye, drinking and carryin' on without so much as a second thought.

For Franklin County, prohibition came at the wrong time. The county was still suffering the plague of Spanish Lady Flu and didn't rightly have time to give two shits about what the government said. All that stump whiskey they were making in the mountains was about the only thing gettin' folks by. Someone got the flu and they're hurtin'? Give 'em some mule. That was the way it worked. No government law was gonna change that.

Well, a couple of months later, the Volstead Act was passed. The Act was meant to enforce the law, since all over the country folks were pretending like prohibition was optional, leaving an understaffed federal service to try and shut down all production and distribution. Mostly the feds went after big cities, especially in the north east; Chicago, New York, Boston, Baltimore, and the like. With the need of liquor rising in the cities, production in the country rose to an all-time high.

Following the final bout of the Spanish Lady Flu, dozens of farms throughout Franklin County failed. For some, it was because the land had ruined and the crops died when the families quarantined themselves. But mostly, it was because too many families lost their sons. Without sons, who was there to plow the fields, to shuffle the hay? That's when a lot of those men turned to making booze. Nearly everyone in Franklin County knew how to make the stuff. Wasn't no big secret. And, hell, since their farms were useless and there was a big call for liquor from the cities, men went to making mountain whiskey full-time. Like it was a great career, or somethin'.

Danny Mitchell, Howard's buddy, had an old still up in Turkey Cock Mountain. Those five days that Howard was gone, he was lost in the underbrush of the mountain, chugging down white lightening with Danny as they repaired the still's stove furnace and thump keg. "We gone make a shit ton of money, Howard. You know that? I heard the Duling brothers from West Virginia sold a load of their whiskey all the way to Floyd County. Can you imagine? Guess there ain't no length a man won't go to get some drank."

Howard had listened carefully as Danny told him all about it. About how J. O. Shively, Arthur Land, Gummy Coleman, and even little Tom Cundiff were getting serious about selling. The whole idea seemed funny to Howard. These boys, their whole lives were spent brewing up small batches of stump whiskey in the mountains. But most of the stuff they churned out was about as good as horseshit. What made them think folks was gone buy it?

"So whatta you say, Howard? You gone get in on it?" asked Danny. There was no missing the exhilarated underbelly of his voice. He stared at Howard with wide eyes and a crooked grin.

_It's amazing_, thought Howard, _that we both made it back from the war. Considering together we got about the same sense as a goat. _

Howard gave a short nod. "Sure, Danny. Let's do it."

"Aw, great. Shit, man, this is just great. What'chu gonna do with all your dough? Me? I'm gonna buy me a new house. That shack we livin' in now ain't fit to house chickens."

What would Howard do with the money? Howard suddenly thought of his wife, Lucy, in Penbrook. He thought of their modest home where the water was barely warm and the rats had more to eat than his wife did. His stomach flipped painfully. He could feel the liquor burning his throat, feel the familiar stinging sensation behind his eyes. Forrest was right; he was damn near useless. Flopping back into the grass, Howard's gaze got lost in the sky.

Maybe he'd buy a new house too. Yeah, Danny, he'd buy a house, too.

* * *

Her fingers hurt and her eyes were damn nearing crying, they stung so bad from lack of sleep. Feeling a crick starting in her neck, Ellie May set down the fabric and sewing needle to roll her shoulders and neck. There came a _pop!_, then another, and she heaved a sigh. Outside the sky was an endless stretch of black velvet, the twinkling stars reminding her of the fireflies lighting up that mountain all those many months ago. The house was quiet. Everyone was asleep, save for her. Tomorrow Jack and Emmy would return to school, though there was no guarantee how long Jack would get to stay. She'd overheard Forrest and Papa talking it over. They needed Jack in field, apparently more than Jack needed school. The thought made Ellie May quiver with sadness. It was bad enough that she had to quit school now, but little Jack, too? He was barely ten years old.

Picking the needling back up, she went back to her sewing. For the last three weeks, she'd been sewing a new dress for Emmy. Not only did she need new clothes for school, but the poor girl needed a good surprise for once. She'd been a mess since her mother and sisters died. Something wasn't right with Emmy now. Something was off. It wasn't right, a child her age loosin' her momma. Ellie May had no idea what to do but she figured the dress was as good a start as any.

There came an abrupt_ thud_ outside. She stilled, listening. It could've been a rabbit, or a possum. But moments later when the screen door creaked open, Ellie May reckoned it was something a bit bigger than a possum. Fearful, she eyed the shotgun by the stove but before she dared move, the intruder seemed to stump his foot and spat, "_Damn chair_." She recognized the voice instantly.

Nostrils flaring, she threw Emmy's dress onto empty couch cushion beside her and flew into the kitchen. Howard stumbled backward upon her entrance, his eyes wide. "What're you doing up, ain't it passed your bedtime?"

"What're you doing back here?" she seethed.

Howard's eyes turned to slits. "This is my house. This is _my _family."

Ellie May gave a strangled laugh. Was he trying to intimidate her? "You damn sure don't act like it."

His lip curled in anger, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I haven't seen you do a single thing to help this family _in months_-"

"Don't you pretend you know what I'm going through. Momma, and Bel-"

"You think you're the only one who lost someone? Howard, your daddy is falling apart. That man is all but gone. It's up to you and Forrest now to take care of this farm and, quite frankly, I don't see you doing shit." Howard's eyes flamed and his mouth opened to spit out what Ellie May was sure to be something foul but she poked him firmly in the chest, her teeth gritting, "I don't think so. I'm so sick of everyone tip-toeing around your feelings. I won't pretend to understand what you went through in the war but that's no excuse for what you've been doing lately. Your family is falling apart and you're sitting back watching it happen. Do you know they're gonna pull Jack out of school? Forrest can't handle the whole damn farm _by himself_ so in a few weeks Jack might not get to keep going to class."

"What? Ain't no reason for Jack to quit his schoolin'. What's he gone do on the farm, anyhow? He's scrawny as hell," scoffed Howard, his heart seizing in guilt.

Ellie May sneered at him. "Guess that's the whole point, Howard. What little Jack can do is better than nothing."

She might have been right, and Howard knew he was definitely in the wrong, but he couldn't just stand there and let some little girl wave her finger in his face. He bowed up angrily, "Listen here-"

"No, you listen," she swiftly cut him off. Her shoulders squaring, she raised her chin to him and spoke in low, quick, no-nonsense tones. "My father is a drunk, sorry, piece of shit and my mother is dead. Your mother, Belva, Era…they're dead, too. So that means that the people in this house are all I have left and I refuse to stand by and watch you treat them this way. Your family needs you, Howard. If you can't be here, if you can't bring yourself to do it for whatever reason, that's fine. But don't hang around here acting sorry. Get your shit and go. Because right now we can barely take care of things as they are, we don't need to have to play babysitter to a grown ass man who's having a pity party, too."

Howard said nothing but blinked real slow a few times. Ellie May recognized his dazed look and her nostrils flared in anger once again. Was he too drunk to even understand her? Would he remember this conversation come tomorrow? Ranking him with one final sneer, Ellie May shook her head, "I'm going to finish Emmy's dress and then I'm going to bed. You can do whatever you'd like but keep quiet. So help me if you're stumbling ass wakes them up…"

He watched her disappear into the family room. Slumping down into a chair, he dropped his hat on the kitchen table and rubbed his eyes. Her words swirled around his head like mule sloshing around in his mouth.

Howard was still at the kitchen table when the family rose the next morning. Ellie May all but pretended not to notice him as she got Jack and Emmy ready for school. Jack made a stink over her fussing, said he wasn't a baby. But they knew he was merely trying to act tough. He relished in the way she smoothed over his hair and straightened his shirt just like their mother used to. When their father and Forrest joined them at the table for breakfast, nothing was said about Howard's sudden return.

Forrest lingered with Howard at the table after everyone else was finished. He had work to get to but he felt a sense that Howard wanted to speak with him. A moment later Howard shifted toward him and Forrest knew he was right. "Your woman yelled at me."

Forrest's brow twitched in surprise. "She what?" He'd never heard Ellie May raise her voice; not at anyone other than himself that is, and usually that was only because he'd purposely gotten her riled up.

His big brother gave a nod, clucking his tongue. Ellie May stood at the sink, her back to them, scrubbing at a skillet. Howard eyed her small frame. She was a tiny little thing, that's for sure. Must've taken real guts for her to stand up to a man his size. "She yelled at me," he repeated with a chuckle. "Got a mouth on her, for sure…nobody's yelled at me like that since before the war. Hell, nobody's ever yell at me like that. 'Cept maybe momma. I reckon I deserved it."

Forrest hummed, eyes sliding across the kitchen to Ellie May. It was the first time that he'd really looked at her in weeks. Her sleeves were pushed back to her elbows, her hands submerged in suds and water. He could feel her exhaustion in the subtle slump of her shoulders and the forced movements.

Howard nudged him. He looked at his brother expectantly, lips pulled into a grin, "I asked if you were gone marry that girl."

Forrest's eyebrows dipped. He glanced back at Ellie May. Guilt thumped him square in the chest. He cleared his throat. "Ain't you got some work to do, Howard?"

Again, Howard let a grin spread his face. It wasn't the answer he'd been looking for but he'd take it. Just like that all the animosity and tension between them was gone. Forrest was accepting him back. The eldest Bondurant brother stood and said, "I reckon so. See ya out there."

The moment the screen door slammed shut behind Howard, Forrest was crossing the room in long, determined strides. He took the skillet from Ellie May's hands. "Let me get that."

"Forrest, I got it," she murmured, not looking him in the eye.

Fear choked him. She was angry with him. Probably hurt, too. He was foolish to have ever thought that she wouldn't realize he'd been distancing himself. "S'alright. I can do it. Why don't you take a break?"

Finally, her gaze lifted and met his own. "I'll take a break when you do."

There were dark half-moons beneath her eyes and her lips were pulled tight. She looked like she'd fall over if given one good poke. Forrest dropped the skillet, letting it slide down into the sink and disappear beneath the soapy water. He took a dish towel and caught Ellie May's hands, gently drying them and then his own. She said nothing but gave him a hard stare that made him swallow thickly. "I'd like to talk with you."

She knew exactly what he wanted to discuss. Smiling sadly up at him, she shook her head, saying softly, "It's okay, Forrest. You don't need to explain."

And truly he didn't. Ellie May knew exactly why Forrest had been distant, why hadn't been holding her hand or shooting her small smiles when no one else was watching. It was guilt. Forrest felt guilty because he was the one who had brought the sickness in. And, though he'd also had the flu, he had lived while his mother and sisters died. That's why he was throwing himself into the farm work. He needed a distraction so that he didn't feel. So that he didn't feel the pain of their loss and the overwhelming guilt that resulted.

He squeezed her hands. "I'm sorry," murmured Forrest.

Ellie May squeezed back.

* * *

**A bonus to the long wait: this was super long, right? This chapter was almost a thousand words longer than the others. **

**There will be loads more Ellie/Forrest action in the next chapter but I couldn't gloss over everything that happen with fluff. That's just not how it happens. Nevertheless, I hope you guys liked this one. Let me know! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Happy late Thanksgiving everyone (well, those of us States side)! I hope everyone's holiday was nice and yummy. Black Friday was exhausting, otherwise this would've been out yesterday. But, I got some awesome deals…so a win? Yes, I think so.**

**There wasn't a lot of feedback for the last chapter. I get it – it's not quite as fun to review when the chapter's full of heavy. So, as promised, I tried to pick this one up a bit. It's still a little on with the intense grief-thing but the fluff is there. However, if that's not enough to lift your spirits, the next chapter will be much happier! There's a special guest appearance that I hope you'll enjoy. **

**Well, let's get on with it, shall we?**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Forrest relished the labor of living on a farm. By the time he was ten he could toss hay bales from a loft like empty packing crates. Sometimes while in the barn moving hay or in his father's tobacco field he would stop listening to the world and just work, concentrating on the basic repetition of movements, the strain and crack of his muscles. Every so often the perfect cycle of motion and strength was found and it was better than effortless. The sweetness of the moment would ring in delicious ripples through his body. And when Forrest stopped, his back muscles shaking, his hands bloody, someone shouting his name, he felt like he had moved through a hundred years of time.

The Bondurant boy had been itching to reclaim that feeling during his recovery from the flu. He ached to rebuild the old strength and once again feel that perfect sensation of movement and muscle. Over two months had passed since his mother and sisters' deaths, and it seemed his body was finally slipping back into that familiar rhythm just in time for the summer tobacco harvest.

Ellie May was shouting at him from the porch. He lifted his head, squinting at the sun. She was saying something about a radio broadcast warning that a storm was coming. Two rows over Howard straightened, wiping his sweaty brow as he surveyed the surrounding sky. He glanced at Forrest, "I didn't feel the pressure change. Wind ain't too bad. What you figure?"

Forrest paused. He hadn't felt the changes either but as he strained his senses, he noticed a slight shift in the wind. "No more than an hour," he guessed and the storm would be on them.

The two brothers hurried to finish their work in the field before darting about the barn, securing the animals and equipment. A steady rain began to fall just as they were locking up the barn doors. When they ventured inside, Ellie May had a fresh pot of tea ready and as they gathered around the table, lightning crackled across the sky, a low rumble of thunder shortly following. Howard let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair, "Just in time."

"I'm gonna go pick up the kids from school," Ellie May told them sometime later, the storm outside brewing something awful. Class would be over soon and there was no sense in having Emmy and Jack walk home in the storm. Especially not when they were all sittin' around doing nothin'.

Forrest listened to the rain rattling like gunfire on the tin roof of their porch. He nursed his tea slowly. "I'll go with you."

They drove to the schoolhouse over the winding, wet, dirt roads, the tires on the ancient Ford slinging mud mercilessly. They pulled to a stop in the dirt lot, the engine stalling. A hoard of children was gathered on the withering stoop of the school, each dreading the long walk home in the storm and waiting for one of their peers to take the first brave step off the porch and into the rain. A brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the darkening sky and a few of the children shrieked. The stern frown on Ellie May's face told Forrest that she wished they could drive the others home as well.

The tiny bodies parted as Forrest and Ellie May approached. Emmy was there, a cluster of books in her arms. Cricket stood at her side but there was no sign of Jack on the cramped porch. Cricket's eyes were red, watery, and brimming with tears. His gaze shifted down to the floor as they drew near. Ellie May knew that look well; she took Cricket's hands in her own. There were bright red welts across the backs of his palms. "Sleeping in class again, Cricket?"

The young boy sniffled, shrugging lamely. "Didn't mean to."

Forrest stuffed his hands in his pockets and asked Cricket, "Where's Jack?"

"He took off," Cricket half-whispered. As always, Forrest's face remained passive, even as he stiffly muttered, "He what?"

A woman appeared in the doorway of the schoolhouse. The woman was tall but thick about the waist, her tattered dress a bit too snug in all the wrong places. "Can I help you?" she rudely asked. The woman's name was Ann Rufty, she was the replacement teacher brought in from Burnt Chimney when Mrs. McCullers died of the Lady Flu.

"We're here for Emmy and Jack Bondurant. Only Cricket, here, says that Jack took off," replied Ellie May.

Mrs. Rufty's lips pursed. "He left earlier to use the outhouse and never returned. He didn't even take his belongings. I gave them to his sister."

"When was this?" grumbled Forrest.

"Just when the rain came in, I suppose," the woman shrugged boredly. Ellie May's gaze narrowed, "So a little boy wondered out into a storm, not to return, and you were doing _what_ to find him? Were you even going to notify someone?"

"W-well, I assumed his sister wou-" But a roar of thunder clapped overhead, effectively silencing the stammering woman. Once more the young children shrieked, a few darting off the porch and into the shelter of the forest, finally bucking up the courage to journey home. Ellie May glared at the woman and Forrest caught her elbow gently in his grasp, "C'mon, Ellie. Get Emmy and Cricket. Y'all go wait in the truck. I'm gonna find Jack."

"He'll be impossible to find in this storm," she muttered, scooping Emmy into her arms. The already heavy rainfall had increased tenfold since they'd left the farm, the excessive downpour making it difficult to see what was in front of your face, much less three or four feet away. "I should go get help. Bring Howard and Danny to look for him, too."

Forrest shook his head. "It ain't like Jack to skip out on class. He wouldn't have gotten far. Y'all go on to the truck now."

The longstanding wooden outhouse sat at the bottom of the grassy knoll behind the schoolhouse. The slope was dangerously slippery in the rain and as Forrest slowly lumbered downward, raindrops harshly pelted at his face and hands. In a matter of moments, he was soaked to the bone, his clothes dragging heavily on his skin. He shouted his brother's name against the booming thunder, whipping winds, and torrential rain. His eyes stung painfully as they combed the woods. "Jackie!"

He spotted Jack's shoes first. They were lying in a puddle a few yards from the outhouse, the leather smoking in the rain. A low groan drew Forrest's eyes to a crumpled form, curled up on its stomach, face pressed to the ground. Jack was trying to stand but struggling fiercely. Forrest was immediately at his side. Jack swayed and fell into his brother's solid form. As he lifted the small, shivering boy into his arms, Forrest noticed the cuffs on Jack's pants. They were blackened, his feet mottled red and burned like they'd been set on fire.

There came another sudden clap of thunder, shadowed by a blaze of lightning. The intense flash was blinding and made Forrest curse as he realized that his little brother had been struck by lightning. "Shit, baby brother," he murmured as the delirious boy struggled to maintain consciousness. A rage sizzled through him. How long had Jack been lying there, sopping wet and in pain? If his teacher had only looked out the back door of the school she could've seen him.

Through half-lidded eyes, Jack lifted his head. "Forrest…? Why are we…in the rain?" he asked, his voice a strangled gasp. But Forrest had to offer no explanation as Jack fell limp, his head rolling back into Forrest's chest. Clenching his teeth, Forrest gathered the abandoned shoes and trekked back up the hill.

They took Jack to the hospital in Rocky Mount. According to Dr. Cobbs, he wouldn't be able to walk for a week. The good doctor showed both Forrest and Ellie May how to tend to the wounds on his tiny feet. The bandages would have to be changed twice a day, more if needed. As they watched the doctor's gentle movements, the teenagers brimmed with a tangible fury. Jack could've died and that Rufty woman hadn't given two shits.

That night, and many of the nights that followed, would be added to the list of nights that Forrest Bondurant fought for sleep, in spite of the soothing lull of Jack's endless snores beside him. Since he'd been struck, Jack had been sleeping like a rock. He was out the moment his head touched the pillow, sleeping hard through the night, and a pain to wake come morning. Ellie May worried over his newfound sleeping habits but the doc told her it was a normal side effect.

Rolling over, Forrest draped an arm over the younger boy's chest and firmly shut his eyes. He attempted to will himself to a slumber that he knew wouldn't come. As he lay there, his thoughts began to drift, as they often did. He thought about his brother's luck, good or bad. Bad luck let him get struck by lightning, good luck let him survive virtually unharmed. Jack could've been lost to them, a another name to add to the continuously growing list of loved ones long gone. He thought of his sweet mother and felt her loss in the deepest part of him. He missed the sight of her rocking by the window endlessly smoking hand-rolled cigarettes, blowing long plumes of smoke and watching the road for the rare traveler. He missed the sound of her musical voice and the way her hugs had always had the ability to make him feel like a little child in the best of ways.

He missed his sisters just the same – Era's perpetual giggling and Belva's witty commentary. Their home had grown cold in their absence with a lack of warmth that Ellie May could not replace despite her hardest efforts. Ellie May. Like his movement in the fields, things with Ellie May were slowly falling back into place. He'd recognized his error in pushing everyone away, most of all her. Distancing himself from what was left of his family would not solve anything. No good could come of it. Of course, she'd easily forgiven him, though he doubted he deserved it. In the days since, he'd been trying to earn her forgiveness.

He'd rise early in the mornings to get breakfast started so she didn't have to. He'd linger before and after meals just to spend a few extra minutes with her, then returning to his chores. On Saturday, he took her to town, just the two of them, to pick up an order from the feed store and while there he'd bought her an ice cream float, which they shared while bathing in the afternoon sun. Though Ellie May often protested his efforts, he was trying to redeem himself and there was nothing she could do but reassure him that he was forgiven.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he almost didn't hear someone stirring in the kitchen. The footfalls were too light to belong to Howard or their father. And little Emmy knew better than to leave her bed at night. He deduced that it must've been Ellie May. He couldn't stop himself from clambering out of bed and trudging down the hall. As suspected, she was sitting at the kitchen table, fiddling with her fingers, a haggard tiredness to her petite frame. Forrest drew to her side, pulling out a chair and offering to brew a pot of coffee.

Her nose wrinkled. "If I drink coffee this late my stomach'll be torn up tomorrow. You know, I think I liked it better when Howard was drunk. At least then I didn't have to hear him snore all night."

The Bondurant boy nodded knowingly, a small smile lighting up his face. Belva used to say their brother sounded more like a hibernating bear than a man when he slept. Forrest took her hand in his and tugged her into the family room. They sank into the couch before the stove. A warm silence enveloped them, Ellie May burrowing back into Forrest's chest. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head, her soft hair like a whisper against his skin. Her hand found his and she laced their fingers together. Tucking her feet beneath her, Ellie May gave Forrest's hand a squeeze, "I'm going to talk to Papa in the morning. I don't want Emmy and Jack going back to that school, not with that woman in charge. I know it won't be the same, but I'll do my best to teach them what I can."

"And just when do you think you'll have the time to teach them?" probed Forrest. Ellie May was already stretching herself too thin, barely making it as it was. Sensing his thoughts, she sighed, "I'll manage…somehow." A quiet moment passed and Ellie May said casually, "Jack likes a girl at school."

Forrest straightened. "Does he?"

Ellie May nodded proudly, "Her name is Sylvia. Apparently, when I quit going to school she took to helping him with his sentences in my stead. She's a cute little thing. Her hair's all ringlets, and she's got perfect skin."

"You have perfect skin," murmured Forrest, his nose pressing against her temple. He kissed her cheek softly and she brought her fingers up to graze where his lips had been. Her fingertip lightly traced a faint scar, the scar that her father left the first and only time he'd raped her. She frowned slightly, "I used to."

Forrest drug his lips down the side of her face and firmly kissed the scar. "Still do."

Ellie May smiled and turned into him, her arms slipping around his torso. "You're sweet."

To this, he did not reply but merely held her, a silent beacon of comfort. Morning found them in much the same position, only they were both snoozing lightly. Howard, who rose with the sun as it swept over the mountains, stopped to stare at them on his way to the kitchen. Their father joined him soon after and huffed, "Leave 'em. I'll make breakfast."

"I got it, Pop," murmured Howard. It was a sad truth that most nights Forrest loved Ellie May better than he could ever love Lucy. But it wasn't for lack of trying. Sighing to himself, Howard followed their father into the kitchen and set about preparing a batch of biscuits and grits. He spoke absently, "I think I'll go see Lucy today."

Papa Bondurant nodded approvingly. "Why don't you bring her down this weekend? Ain't healthy for her to stay up in that cabin by her lonesome so much."

It was the most he'd heard his father say in months and it was all Howard could do to nod lamely. A minute or two later, Emmy padded into the kitchen, yawning and clutching a corn-husk doll to her chest. The small girl blinked the last remnants of sleep from her eyes and glanced about the kitchen. Without a sound, Emmy crossed the room and climbed into her father's lap. Papa ran his fingers through Emmy's hair, tousled from sleep, cherishing the feeling of his little girl in his arms. His Dorothy might have been gone but a part of her lived on in her children. This was never more the obvious than in Emmy. That little girl was the spitting image of her mother.

"Did you sleep well, baby girl?"

Emmy nodded, her thumb slipping into her mouth. "Stop that," came Ellie May's voice as she sluggishly ambled into the room. Fighting a yawn, she pointed at Emmy. "You are too old to be sucking your thumb. Get it out of your mouth right now, Emmy."

"You heard her," muttered Papa, swatting at Emmy's hand. Emmy did as she was told but not without a pout and whimper. Ellie May cut her eyes at the little girl, stopping her cries before they could begin with a warning of, "Don't even start."

"Forrest still out?" asked Howard, yanking a pan of biscuits out of the oven. Ellie May nodded, moving to the coffee pot, "Do you know your snore sounds like someone's turning over a load of gravel with tractor?"

Howard miffed, pretending to be offended. "Why don't you go one back to bed if you gone wake up fussin'?"

"I'm not fussing," she grumbled, moving behind him with handfuls of silverware as he began to set out the plates. "I was only asking. It's not healthy to sound like that. Maybe there's a problem in your lungs. You might want to consider tagging along when we take Jack back to Dr. Cobbs next week for his check-up, see what the good doctor has to say about your problem."

Howard continued to grumble at her pestering and Papa watched the quarreling duo with an amused expression. Shaking his head, he gave a wistful smile at their antics, reminiscent of a time when his home had been filled with constant bantering and good-natured jests. He patted Emmy on the back as Howard set out the bowl of grits. "Go wake up your brothers," he told her.

"Actually, Howard's going to have to go get Jack," advised Ellie May as she retrieved the milk from the cooler. "He can't walk. He's gonna have to be carried."

Emmy pattered into the family room to shake her older brother's shoulder. "F'rest," she whispered. "F'rest, wake up. It's time to eat."

Forrest came alert with a jolt. He drank in his surroundings. How had he gotten to the family room? He felt the empty space on the couch beside him, felt the lack of warmth at his side, as he recalled last night's events. Where was Ellie? Emmy stared at him with an urgent expression. "C'mon," she urged. "Breakfast is ready."

He took her outstretched hand and allowed his little sister to haul him into the kitchen. He nodded good mornings to his father, Howard, and Jack who were already seated at the table. Emmy dropped Forrest's hands and joined them, taking her seat beside Jack. Forrest helped Ellie May collect the jams and apple butter to take to the table, asking, "Did we fall asleep in there?"

Ellie May eyed him like he'd grown another head. "Yes…"

Falling into a stupor, Forrest trailed her to the table and as he bowed his head for his father to say grace he couldn't help but feel the shock resonate in his bones. He'd fallen asleep with her in his arms. While stranger things had happened, if y'all will recall, Forrest can't sleep with another person in the room 'cept Jack.

At least, he couldn't until now.

* * *

**If you can guess, the special guest appearance will be none other than Lucy Bondurant! I'm a huge fan of Howard and it's really a blast writing him. Especially the bantering between Ellie May and Howard. I think it's going to be interesting to see how Howard is with Lucy. **

**Review? Because your thoughts are important! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Did anyone go buy **Lawless** on DVD today? I know I did! **

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Howard and Lucy arrived as the last golden rays of sunlight were receding from the sky. Fading streaks of purple, pink, and blue cast a surreal glow over the earth. Low clouds rolled dusky gray and charcoal. A short breeze freshened up the night air, drawing in the sweet smell of the honeysuckle that grew along the side of the barn. Lucy was wearing her best summer dress, a simple number with poufy sleeves the color of a newborn baby's rosy cheeks. As they approached her in-laws' home, she fiddled with the hem and pulled at the ends of her lifeless hair. Howard ground his teeth. She'd been doing that all damn day.

"Quit messin'. You look fine," he instructed. Lucy glanced at him with an uncertain frown. Her stomach in knots, she grasped Howard's arm, "Are you sure we didn't need to bring anything? I could've baked a pie or-"

"Woman, if don't quit-" began Howard but a sudden shout from inside the barn made him stop short. His father emerged, wiping his greasy hands on his dungarees, "Now, Howard, that ain't no way to go talkin' to your wife, is it? Don't you let him act that way, Lucy. Every now and then a man needs his woman to set him straight."

Lucy gave a tight lipped but genuine smile. Granville Bondurant had always made her feel at ease. Taking her arm, Papa drew Lucy away from her husband and led her into the house. Jack was sitting at the kitchen table, his wounded feet propped up on another chair as he scribbled away into a notebook. Emmy sat across from him doing exactly the same. The little girl dropped her pencil. "I'm done."

Jack finished his scribble and did much the same. "Yeah, me too."

"Ellie," called Forrest, who sat at the head of the table, overseeing their progress. "They're done."

Dragging the skillet out of the oven, Ellie May placed the cornbread on the stove top and tossed her dishrag into the sink. She faced Forrest with her hands on her hips. "Then check their work, Forrest," she muttered, shooting him a glare before returning to her attention to the pot on the stove.

Howard snickered, "Yeah, Forrest."

It was on the tip of Forrest's tongue to smart off to his older brother, but the second he spotted Lucy tucked into their father's side, he swallowed his words. "Lucy, it's good to see you again," he said, rising to shake her hand. Lucy's grip was loose and she tucked her hair behind her ear, "Hey there."

Papa released her, moving to stand behind Jack's chair. "Lucy, you remember Jack. Wouldn't you believe it, the boy went and got himself struck by lightning."

Lucy's eyes widened in horror, a gasp drawn from her lips. "Oh, my goodness. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," groaned the younger boy, crossing his arms over his chest. He shot their father a quivering glare over his shoulder, "But you ain't got to keep tellin' people."

"It's not people, its Lucy," quipped Howard. "Ain't no need to be embarrassed."

Papa turned to the young girl preparing their supper, "Ellie May, have y'all met?"

Ellie May nodded, cleaning her hands on a dishrag. No one noticed Emmy slip from the table but suddenly there she was, clutching Ellie May's skirt, her chin tucked to her chest. Ellie May nearly tripped over the small child as she waved to Lucy. "Yes, sir. It was a while back. Hi, Lucy, how are you?"

"I'm well," the older woman smiled politely. She eyed the little girl at Ellie May's side. "And that must be Emmy? My, she sure has grown. You were just a baby the last time I saw you."

Emmy said nothing but shoved her face into Ellie May's side. The familiarity of Emmy's actions was escaped by no one. Everyone froze, the kitchen coming to a standstill. Emmy was clinging to Ellie May like she'd clung to her mother. Ellie May looked down at the small girl, conflicted. She wasn't sure whether to feel overjoyed that Emmy loved and trusted her so much; or feel overwhelmingly sad because Emmy had to resort to hiding behind her, because her mother was no longer an option.

"I'm sorry, Lucy," murmured Ellie May, trying to break the tension. She placed a gentle hand on the little girl's shoulder, "Emmy's still has bouts of shyness from time to time."

Lucy smiled, a painful sort of smile, and nodded honestly. "Me, too."

"What smells good?" asked Howard, pushing forward to the stove, and like that the spell was broken.

"It's a pot roast," answered Ellie May. She poked Howard's shoulder, "And was that a compliment?"

The eldest Bondurant's face crumbled as his realized he error. "No," he gruffly bit. Dipping his finger into the pot, he snatched up a piece of carrot and popped it in his mouth. This received him a stern slap on the arm and Forrest had to shoo him away from the stove before Ellie May blew a gasket.

Dinner proved to be an amusing affair after the initial awkwardness. Since they had Lucy to entertain, Papa kept up an easy conversation. Ellie May helped it along, occasionally probing Forrest or Howard to comment. Once their forks began to scrape empty plates, Howard rubbed his stomach with a satisfied grin, "Well, I'm ready to pass out."

"Not yet," Ellie May stood and plucked a covered plate from the shelf above the sink. She removed the dish towel and grabbed a long butter knife. She set the cake in front of Papa. "Y'all got to eat desert first."

"Alright!" cheered Jack as he and Emmy craned forward in excitement. "Is it chocolate?"

Ellie May proudly nodded. It was the first cake she'd ever baked entirely on her own. All throughout dinner she'd been silently praying that it would turn out alright. Papa cut the cake but it was Howard who took the first bite. Ellie May ceased to breathe, her eyes sternly set on Howard's mouth. He chewed quickly, swallowed, and speared another bite with his fork. He noticed her stare as he brought the second bite to his lips. "What? You poison it or somethin'?"

Ellie May beamed, "Or somethin'."

They gathered in the family room after supper, the first time their father had stepped foot in the room since their mother and sisters died. They drank tea, or in their father's case coffee, chatting casually about the nice summer weather and such, the radio singing a soft hymn in the background. When Emmy began to nod off, Forrest gathered the small girl in his arms and carried her to bed. Howard clapped the back of the couch, eyeing Jack, "Yeah, it's about time you got off to bed, too, little brother."

The youngest Bondurant boy protested meekly for a few minutes but eventually found himself being tucked into bed and kissed goodnight. With the children in their beds, the conversation stalled temporarily, the radio the only sound in the stuffy room. Papa flattened his feet to the floor, "Well, I don't know about y'all but I'm about tired. I think it's time for this old man to get to bed. Goodnight, y'all. Lucy, it was nice havin' you over, sweetheart."

Lucy thanked Papa for having her, in her tiny mousy voice, and gave a small half-smile as he retreated from the room. Howard yawned and stood, cracking his back. "Y'all need some fresh air?"

They moved to the back porch, the girls occupying the porch swing, Howard plopping down in the rocker, and Forrest leaning against the porch railing. "Hey, Forrest," Howard suddenly grinned. "You remember that summer you beat out Aaron Wayne in the strong man contest?"

Forrest's brow dipped, but only slightly. "What made you think of that?"

"Ran into Tom Cundiff this morning. He told me Jess Willard lost his championship to that Dempsey fella. Can you believe it? Apparently, the kid managed to knock out ole Willard in the first round. First time anyone's knocked him out. Ever. Folks seem to think Dempsey had somethin' in his gloves – knuckles maybe. They're calling it the worst beating in the history of boxing," his brother shook his head, a sort of sad disbelief to his face. He stared off toward the barn for a moment before sighing real low. "Yeah, heard Willard got knocked out seven times in the first round, fought for two more, and quit. They said on the radio his skull was cracked and that he had two broken ribs, a shattered jaw, a broke nose, and four missing teeth…it's a damn shame. Willard's been the heavyweight champ for four years, ain't nobody been able to hand his ass to 'im. Now he done lost the title to a kid."

Ellie May nearly giggled at the truly forlorn expression on Howard's scruffy face. Instead, she pursed her lips and murmured, "I'm sure you could've showed that Dempsey fella how it's done, right?"

Howard jeered at her snarky comment and eyed his little brother. "You know if I'd been in that contest you wouldn't have won."

Forrest cocked an eyebrow. "That so?"

A grin split Howard's face. "Whatta ya say, Forrest?"

For a moment the pair of brothers were still, then suddenly Forrest shot off the porch, Howard leaping out of the rocker, hot on his heels. They raced toward the barn, Ellie May and Lucy standing swiftly and moving to the edge of the porch. Lucy cupped her mouth, eyes wide, "What are they doing?"

"My best guess? Having a strong man contest." Ellie May rolled her eyes. Though their behavior was certainly childish, Ellie May was actually a bit relieved. It was about time those boys got to act like children again, rather than haggard old men. Besides, there was nothing wrong with a little healthy competition. While the boys began to tumble about the yard, lifting this and tossing that, Ellie May and Lucy resumed their spots on the porch swing, Lucy tucking into herself.

Ellie May studied the older girl for some time. Even when her father was beating her, Ellie May had never looked as skittish as Lucy did in that moment. What had troubled the poor girl so? "Lucy," she said softly. "Do you mind if I ask…how old are you?"

"Oh, I don't mind. I'm near twenty-two."

Ellie May tried not to let her surprise show. She knew Lucy was young, hell, she looked like a baby! But twenty-one? That was only five years older than herself! Lucy seemed to sense Ellie May's disbelief and pushed her thin, swooping bangs out of her face. Ellie May felt a surge of pity for the girl; she'd upset her. All was quiet for a moment, save for the boy's grunting out in the yard. Ellie May tried to figure the best way to approach Lucy, eventually deciding it was time for some flattery. "You must do a lot of cooking up in that cabin all by yourself. How long have you lived there?"

"A little over three years," admitted Lucy quietly. Ellie May's eyes became saucers. "Good Lord! Three years? I've been cooking alone for three months and I'm ready to die. You must slave over your kitchen."

Lucy's pale cheeks flushed. The corners of her mouth hinted at a smile. "I actually enjoy it quite a bit." She shrugged lamely. "Gives me something to do."

"I bet you're quite a chef now, all these years of experience behind you. Say, you wouldn't want to help me every now and then? I can't cook like their momma could. Can't even make cornbread right. I understand if you don't have the time or-"

"No!" Lucy shook her head animatedly. "I'd love to."

Ellie May grinned. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

* * *

The following Tuesday Ellie May took Jack to Rocky Mount for his follow up with Dr. Cobb. The good doctor took one look at the young Bondurant's feet and deemed him recovered, sending them on their way. Jack, not ready to go back to chores after a week of lying around the house, asked Ellie May if they could kill time around town. The walked up and down the strip of store fronts, Jack testing out his legs by running and skipping ahead of her on the sidewalk.

"I bet this is what Forrest felt like when he got off his crutches," declared Jack.

Ellie May snickered. "Yeah, Jack. I'm sure this is exactly how he felt."

They stepped into the Rocky Mount general store. Jack dipped up and down the length of the store, particularly intrigued by the candy counter. Ellie May watched him carefully out the corner of her eye as she browsed the shelves. She was so preoccupied making sure Jack stayed out of trouble that she didn't notice the shadow that fell over her shoulder.

"You're that Bondurant girl, ain'tcha?" a deep, broken voice asked, right in her ear. Squealing, Ellie May spun on her heels, nearly dropping the bottle of pop in her hand. Before her stood two towering figures, rivaling Howard in size , stature, and smell. A stench wafted off of them so foul that nearly all the fresh air within a two mile radius turned sour. Her chest tightened, the air in her lungs rushing in out in a single _swoosh_! She licked her lips, squaring her shoulders, "So what if I am?"

The dirty men shared stern glares, the one closest to her seizing her by the arm. She slapped at his hand, the pop drinking falling from her grasp and shattering on the floor. "Get your hand off of me!"

"Let her go, boys!" the shop keeper called from behind the counter, a shotgun in hand.

"Piss off, Sutton!" the other man growled, storming around his partner to snatch the gun out of the man's hands. With a quick jerk, he unloaded the shotgun, shells crashing to the ground. He threw the gun at the man and gritted a warning. "Stay outta this. It don't concern you."

"Leave her alone!" a squeaky voice demanded.

Fear nearly paralyzed Ellie May as Jack began throwing canned goods at the two massive oafs. "Jack, don't! Just run! Go!"

Jack's little wrist paused halfway through the air, a can of green beans in his steel grip. His eyes widened, his teeth bared, then he turned and bolted for the door. The man holding Ellie May watched him go but his friend scoffed, "Leave him."

Ellie May glared at the strangers. "What do you want?" she gritted through clenched teeth. She could feel the familiar sting of a bruise forming where her assailant was squeezing her arm. The familiarity of it all was like a slap in the face after the past few years away from her father. And here Ellie May had thought her days of being treated like a punching bag were long gone.

"You give that piece of shit Bondurant a message, you hear?" the one holding her snarled. There was a wad of chewing tobacco in his cheek. She watched the wad bob up and down as he spoke. "You tell that sorry mother fucker that we're coming for him. You tell him we're out to make even."

"Why don't you tell him yourself?" she suggested, struggling to free herself from his stronghold. "You boys ain't scared, are you?"

The man yanked her forward and with a painful yelp she collided with his chest. The stench nearly gagged her. "Now you listen here," he demanded, his rough, hillbilly voice dropping dangerously low. "We ain't scared of nothing. 'Specially not some half-cracked vet."

It was a foolish thing to say and, though Ellie May had never been an instigator, she couldn't help but curl her lip in repugnance and sneer, "Could've fooled me."

A thick arm reared back. She tensed, preparing for the inevitable strike. But the pain never came. In that same second there was a third man standing there, his arm suspended in air, blocking her capture's blow. Jack shadowed the newcomer, grinning from ear to ear. The newcomer shoved her assailant backwards, effectively releasing her from his steel grip. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned.

"The fuck you want, Mitchell?" the other man snapped.

Danny Mitchell gave a fox-like grin as the two men puffed out there chests and clenched their fists. "Hold on now. Sure you wanna do this in public? Whole lot of witnesses here. We wouldn't want someone to see you piss yourselves again. Run along now and leave the girl alone. You don't worry about ole Howard. I'll make sure he gets your message."

"You might as well get ready," one of the men spat as they retreated from the general store. "We'll be comin' for you next."

Danny flashed 'em a sincere smile. "Lookin' forward to it."

"Yeah, alright! That was great! Wait 'til I tell Howard and Forrest!" cheered Jack, staring up at Danny with a glorious gaze.

Ellie May had only met Danny Mitchell once before. It was a week after their mother, Belva, and Era died. Danny'd shown up at the farm wearing a wrinkled suit, his hand in a shaky clutch, to offer his condolences. She didn't know him too well. He seemed like an alright kinda guy. Then again, any man who willingly called Howard his best friend…

"Are you alright?" Danny asked, running a hand through the same blond hair that his younger brothers Cal and Eddie had. His bright, green eyes cautiously watched her as if he was waiting for her to cry or scream or have a break down or somethin'.

Ellie May rubbed her sore arm. "I'm fine…thank you."

The newcomer nodded. "It's a good thing Jack caught me before I got to the motel. I had me a poker game with some of the guys. I never would'a thought to stop in here…anyhow, c'mon, I'll give y'all a ride home."

Jack was out of the truck bed and shooting up the porch steps before Danny even shifted the truck gear into the stopped position. "Jack!" Ellie May shouted, muttering under her breath. Danny and Ellie May swiftly followed after the young boy. Everyone was in the kitchen, Emmy on Papa's lap at the table, Howard and Forrest lingering by the stove. Jack was practically bouncing up and down in front of Howard, his little voice going ninety miles a minute.

"Jack," Ellie May hissed. He spun, eyes going wide. She motioned Emmy. "Take your sister out back. Y'all go play."

His chin quivered, a short whimper echoing in his throat, "But-"

"Jack," Papa cautioned and with a pitiful huff, Jack took his little sister's arm and whined, "C'mon, Emmy."

They disappeared out the back door.

"Ellie May, what's this all about?" asked Papa.

Ellie May's eyes found Howard's. "Two men came up to me in town today." She watched as the pair of brother's tensed. Forrest stepped forward, eyes sweeping over her frame searching for any sign of damage. She shook her head softly. "They didn't touch me. They wanted me to tell you, Howard, that they're coming for you. They said you needed to watch out because they're going to get even."

"Howard," Danny took off his hat. "It was Clarence Cardinal and Joe Fensky."

At the mention of the names, Howard's shoulders rippled, like an electric current flowing through his body. He nearly growled and shot a look so disgusted at Ellie May that she nearly flinched from it. "They got no right," the eldest Bondurant seethed. "Those sons of bitches got no right goin' after our women. Those sorry sacks of shit."

"Howard," their father warned. Howard stepped away from Ellie May, his massive frame shaking, and she asked, "I assume you know what they're talking about?"

"Oh, I know," muttered Howard. And with that he headed for the door calling for Danny and Forrest after him. The other men followed wordlessly, their father lowering his gaze to the floor. He might've been alright with it but Ellie May sure wasn't. She caught Forrest's arm. "This is not your fight."

Forrest paused, his brother and Danny continuing towards the car. He met her eyes, carefully taking her chin in his grasp. "They approached _you_. That makes it my fight."

"Let your brother handl-" But her words were effectively cut off by a pair of warm lips. Her stomach tightened, her mind jumbling, as her mouth was set on fire. A honking car horn made Forrest tear away and Ellie May whimpered the moment his lips left hers. He kissed her forehead, "I'll be back. Don't stay up."

And then they were gone.

* * *

**As always a very special thank you to those who reviewed! I love hearing feedback and I'm so glad you guys were excited for this chapter. I hope it did your excitement justice. **

**Did you all like the Lucy/Howard-ness? Also, I'm delving a lot deeper into Howard and Ellie's relationship than I originally planned. Before it was just like, oh he accepted her because of Forrest (or at least that's how it was when I sketched out the story line) but now as I sit here writing it, there's so much more to it than that. So expect more exploring on that subject.**

**Also, there's not a whole lot of fluff going on. I know it's trying y'all crazy but think about it! Forrest just lost half of his family – nearly every woman he's ever loved. Don't you think that might make him a little different in respect to Ellie? However, I'm a fan girl at heart so I promise some major fluff in the next chapter. **

**To Ms. **Laura Page Turner** : I did have a good Thanksgiving! Thank you very much! :D **


	14. Chapter 14

**Dear **Not . So . Typical . Girl ., Kay1104, Wolflihood, 26RH, anchou59, JohnnyStormsGirl, KaicherAlfstan, angie jackson, Wally, **and **Guest (however, many of you there have been), **I'd just like to say you're awesome. Thank you so much for always sharing your thoughts on this little project of mine. You guys are so stinkin' sweet! **

**Ms**. KaicherAlfstan **requested a little scene with Lucy and Ellie May. I've thought it over and I've decided to put it in. It's just a cute little bit that will pop up a few chapters from now. I think it's really great that she imagined this little scene. It means the characters are really taking foot in her mind and I love that! **

**As always, I hope you enjoy, my friends. **

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

The wall clock hanging beside the cooler showed that it was nearly three o'clock that morning when Forrest and Howard pulled into the dirt drive. Ellie May's head was propped on her curled arms, resting on the kitchen table. Her eyes had been shut when the old Ford drove up, the headlights off on account of Howard didn't want to wake anyone. The slamming screen door jolted her awake and she frowned instantly at the sight of the two men.

Howard's usually unruly hair was slicked down, as if wet, and the sleeves on his shirt were ripped to the elbows, the tattered ends stained crimson. The knuckles on his right hand were busted clear open, dry blood caking the fingers and backside. His eyes were bloodshot, but not from booze. He took one look at Ellie May, sniffed, and passed through the kitchen, headed for bed.

Forrest's eyes cut her in two. "I thought I told you not to wait up."

"And I told you not to go," she quietly replied. "Guess we're both stubborn."

Forrest didn't look much worse than his older brother. His hands, too, were bloodied and battered, his shirt untucked and wrinkled, but seemingly in one piece. There was a cut on his bottom lip. Clean, almost surgical, like someone had taken a knife and sliced straight down. The horrible cut looked terribly out of place on Forrest's thick, pouted mouth.

She crossed to him.

Her hand slide up his arm to cup his cheek, her thumb smoothing over the stubble along his jaw. Raw concern shone in her eyes making Forrest's chest clench. He took her hand in his, bringing her into a hug, "Yeah, I'm alright."

Their hug was long, drawn out, as if both were holding on to make sure the other didn't leave. The kitchen was dark, shadows playing on the wall and Forrest saw their shadow on the floor over Ellie May's shoulder. The outline of their joined bodies was awkward and lumpy, but the sight of it warmed him. They were one in the shadows.

The Bondurant boy pulled away a hair. He caught her chin, his thumb running over the curve of her mouth. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

"We need to clean your hands, first," she protested. But Forrest shook his head adamantly, "Tomorrow."

She tried to argue with him but she was so exhausted and she'd had a stressful evening. She surrendered her will to him, allowing him to tug her along to the room she shared with Emmy. He kissed her forehead, whispering goodnights. He waited for her to turn, to slip into her room, but she didn't move. Not at first. And when she did move, it was only closer to him.

She kissed him gently, her lips a mere breath on his own so as to not hurt him. Dragging her lips across his skin, she craned on her tip toes to shower kisses down his jaw, over his cheeks, beneath his ears, before finally coming back to claim his mouth. She sighed against him, her fingers fisting in his shirt. "You scared the hell out me tonight, Forrest."

His brows drew in confusion. That had never been his intention. Ellie May peered up at him with a wide, sincere gaze. "You're all I have left. Going and putting yourself in danger like that? I get why you did it; you want to protect me, but who's going to protect me if you go and get yourself killed?"

He stared at her for a long moment before shrugging sheepishly like a child getting scolded. "Guess I better not die, then."

"Everybody dies, Forrest."

The faintest trace of a smile tugged at his lips. "Not me."

* * *

As the first signs of autumn swirled over the red, dusty roads of Franklin County, the Bondurants found themselves among the dozens of families huddled in and around the barn on the Smooter farm. Same as the Mitchell's annual corn shucking, or the Jamison's wood chopping, every year like clockwork, AJ Smooter brewed up a massive batch of Brunswick stew to say goodbye to the fading days of summer and welcome the upcoming cold season. The community supper was a big deal for the folks in Franklin. In fact, it was something they looked forward to all year long – at the stew samplin' the men didn't have to work, and the women didn't have to cook, the gathering was purely for their enjoyment.

Not two minutes after they set foot on the Smooter's land did Forrest come face-to-face with Clyde Eller. Well, face-to-chest, as the top of Eller's head barely topped off at Forrest's shoulder. The pair said nothing but glowered at one another until Howard clapped his younger brother's shoulder. "Shit, if he ain't got some balls coming back here."

"I don't know about that," muttered Ellie May as she walked alongside the boys. "He's only back in townbecause his mother wants him to marry Pam Appleman. Of course, Clyde thinks he's too above that now. He's only back to decline their marriage proposal, then he'll return to school. Hmm, has his nose always been that crooked?"

Howard grinned at his brother. "You know, I can't rightly remember. Whatta you think, Forrest?"

"Shut up, Howard."

Three fires blazed across the back forty of the property. The smaller fire sat at the mouth of the barn, the giant black pot of Brunswick stew boiling overhead encased in a half-circle of chatty men, including AJ Smooter and Papa Bondurant. The other two fires burned a few feet away on either side to fight off the night chill and offer some light. Both were about eight feet wide and four feet tall, the flames climbing ten or twelve feet into the charcoal sky. Ellie May shook her head as they approached the barn, "The way that man burns wood it's a wonder there's any trees left in Franklin."

The barn was packed with people, bodies spilling out of the open doors to congregate near the fire, greedy mouths passing jars of clear liquid and bowls full of stew. A five man band occupied the front left corner of the barn, sitting on overturned packing grates and bundles of hay. The music was loud, echoing off the swooping rafters of the barn, everyone clapping or singing along. A makeshift dance floor had cleared in the center of the barn, bystanders edging along the wall and clumping together by the doors and in corners.

They joined the dancing couples in the barn, Forrest begrudgingly allowing Ellie May to drag him across the straw floor as Howard bellowed with laughter. Forrest's arms hug loosely around her waist, her hands snaking around the back of his neck. His body was stiff and reluctant. She gazed at him in amusement. "Not one for dancin', huh?"

Forrest grunted, eyes sweeping over her head to make sure no one was watching. He hated dancing. Hated it somethin' awful. He caught sight of Howard slinking out the back of the barn with Danny Mitchell and frowned. Ellie May stroked the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck, assuming he was uncomfortable dancing with such a crowd. "Hey, don't look at them…look at me."

He did as she instructed, shifting uncomfortably as the pace of the song changed. Ellie May snickered at his discomfort. "Never thought I'd see the day where you looked so unsure of yourself. Forrest Bondurant…afraid of dancing."

"I ain't afraid," he immediately corrected her with yet another grunt. She let out a soft giggle, squeezing his neck, "Sure you aren't." Ellie May laid her head on his chest, closing her eyes, and enjoying the feel of him beneath her. He was so solid. So firm, resolute. His hold on her tightened as she burrowed into him, his breath tickling her ear as they moved amidst the other couples.

When the song ended, the band began to play a group dance and the couples broke apart. Ellie May looked at him expectantly but Forrest scoffed, "Hell, no." She followed him out of the barn, surveying the yard for sign of Emmy and Jack. "Now where'd they get off to? I'm gonna go look for 'em. Don't you go runnin' off, now. We're gonna go back in there and dance some more."

Forrest frowned as she tossed a teasing wink over her shoulder. He watched as she trudged through the field toward the house, cupping her mouth to call out for Jack and Emmy. He almost told her not to bother, that they were around here somewhere, but here lately little Jackie was making it a habit to get into trouble. Not three days ago he'd come home with a black eye and busted lip. Apparently, some boy had been pokin' fun at Cricket and when Jack tried to defend him, both of the boys received a stern ass whoopin'. Though Jack had surely lost, it had made both Howard and Forrest a little proud. Good for Jack for standin' by Cricket and stickin' up for what was right.

"Hey, Forrest," Tom Cundiff appeared at his side. Forrest tipped his head in acknowledgment, glancing back toward the barn. Tom followed his line of sight. "You eat yet? I'm starved."

"Nah, I'm gone wait on Ellie. You can go on."

Tom let a wide grin spread his face. "Say, I heard about her daddy. Y'all must be real happy. Can't nobody blame you."

Forrest narrowed his gaze. "What are you talkin' about, Tom?"

Tom's stomach dropped. Forrest hardly ever addressed anyone by their first name without meaning business. "You don't know? Earl Davis killed himself last week."

A beat lapsed and Forrest slowly nodded, firelight flickering across his face. "Do me a favor," he murmured, stuffing his hands into the pockets on his sweater. "Don't mention this to Ellie."

"Yeah, you got it, pal. Look, I'm sorry. I figured you would'a heard," muttered Tom.

"S'alright."

The men stood in silence for a moment before Tom took off his hat and ran a thick hand over his head. "Say, when you gonna start helpin' Howard push that mule? It ain't so glamorous as everybody's makin' it out to be but it's easy work and quick, too. There's good money to be made here, Forrest. Me and Coleman, we're workin' with Howard and Danny for this next sale. It's gonna be a big one. Some hot shot from New York's gonna buy near seven hundred dollars worth of white lightening."

When Forrest didn't reply, Tom shrugged, "I'm just sayin'…you can't work your daddy's farm forever. You gone have to make a livin' one day."

Forrest nearly snorted. "And running liquor's the way to go?"

Tom flashed a wolfish grin. "Like I said, it's quick, easy, and the payin's good."

"I found 'em," called Ellie May, returning from the house. She smiled at Tom. "Hey, there," she said, slipping under Forrest's arm, her hands winding around his torso as she shivered. "It sure is chilly out here. Can we go back into the barn?"

"Yeah, let's go eat," nodded Forrest, pressing his lips to her temple; he was thankful for the interruption. They said their goodbyes to Tom and wound their way through the hoard of people to the pot of stew. They ate inside the barn and were eventually joined by Howard, Danny Mitchell, their father, and Walter Henley, their bowls running over with Brunswick stew. Papa's eyes scanned the faces of his older children, "Where're Jack and Emmy?"

"In the house with the other kids. They've already eaten," replied Ellie May, Forrest and Howard sharing sheepish looks. Papa nodded appreciatively, gumming a mouthful of stew. Ellie May blew on her spoon, cooling the stew; she glanced at Howard, "Lucy didn't want to come tonight?"

Howard squinted thoughtfully. "I didn't ask. Reckon I ought to've?"

"You're awful," Ellie May rolled her eyes.

Not long after they finished eating, Papa rounded up the younger Bondurants and they piled into his old Ford, trucking along the dirt path home. Jack and Emmy were immediately sent to bed, Howard disappearing off into the tree line heading up to the cabin in Penbrook. Ellie May was settled in the rocker in the family room when Forrest asked her to talk a walk. Arm in arm, they took a stroll through the fields and trees, stopping where Snow Creek ran through the farm. Ellie May kicked a pine cone, "You know, we never did get that last dance."

"Uhhh," rumbled Forrest. He didn't protest as she slid her arms around him and drew him into her. He held her close, his face pressed to her hair. Breathing her in, he deeply sighed and fought the words bubbling up his throat. He had to tell her but…he found it wasn't so bad dancing out there with her. Nobody watchin'. No loud music. Just the two of them. He wouldn't likely admit it, but it was actually kinda nice. He was enjoying it.

"Ellie," he forced himself to speak, knowing that if he didn't tell her now, she'd likely hear it from someone in town. The small girl in his arms drew back and blinked up at him. Her cheeks were red from the cold, the tip of her nose and ears shining pink in the moonlight. Her eyebrows dipped, furrowing in the middle, "What is it?"

"Um," he murmured. He stepped back and watched her cross her arms over her chest. "You're daddy..."

Ellie May's shoulder's tensed. Her lips drew into a thin line, "What about him?"

"He's dead, Ellie. Killed himself last week."

Her eyes became saucers, so wide that her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. The corners of her mouth turned down, her chin quivering. "What? H-how? Why?"

"I don't know."

She turned from him, facing the steady stream that flowing across the land. Kneeling by the branch of the creek, she drew a shaky breath, losing her gaze in the water below. "Okay…"

Forrest hesitated at her side. He repeated her, "Okay?"

Nodding, Ellie May released a painful breath and stood. "I said goodbye to that man a long time ago. Really, Forrest, I'm okay. How did you hear?"

"Tom."

She bit her lip. "I guess it's all over town…the man's dead and he's still running my name into the ground. Killing himself. Huh."

"Don't matter what no one says. Never has."

Ellie May shrugged. "It matters to me."

Forrest said nothing, but took her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. He was not a man of many words but usually he knew what to say to Ellie May. Tonight, however, he was at a loss. As they walked back towards the house, he asked, "Do you remember your momma?"

His question startled Ellie May. He had never asked about her mother before, "Of course I do. I was eleven when she died. Old enough to remember."

"Do you think about her a lot?"

"I don't think about her every day, but I do think about her often. It's little things that remind me of her. Like sewing. She taught me to sew. And cooking. I used to love sitting on the counter when I was a little girl and just watch her cook for hours, mesmerized by the way her hands moved with such purpose. She never had to use a measuring cup. I was always a bit amazed by that. And sometimes when I'm lost and don't know what to do, I ask myself what my mother would've done. Like with Emmy and Jack. I don't know how to be a momma to them, Forrest. But I try to remember the things my mother taught me as a child and the things we used to do together…if I can just give them even a tiny piece of that, of what my mother gave me…I think things will be alright."

"Does it ever stop?" he asked softly.

Ellie May frowned, taking his large paw of a hand in hers. "Does what stop? The pain?" He nodded. "Yes…and no. After a while it doesn't hurt so much that they're gone. You stop feeling angry and bitter, but the hurt is replaced by a sort of constant ache. I'll always miss her, Forrest. And that is something that will never go away."

"I just…I can't stop thinking about my momma. And Bel. And Era."

"It's not a bad thing to remember them, Forrest. It hurts, but it sort of does justice to their memory. Otherwise they'd be like my father, dead with no one to give two shits over it."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Forrest knew there was no love lost between her and her father now. But there had been a time when her daddy had been a good man, who'd treated Ellie May and her mother right. Besides, she was an orphan now and that kind of knowledge had to have some effect.

As if sensing his thoughts, Ellie May tucked her hair behind her ear and squared her shoulders. "I promise, I'm fine. It's not a shock. I knew he was drinking himself to death, knew that one day someone would tell me he was dead, I just expected I'd feel a bit happier. I guess I feel kind've annoyed. This is my life now and I'm happy. Even dead he's finding some way to disturb my peace."

Forrest was ashamed to admit that he felt relieved. He was so glad she wasn't hurting over his loss. Cupping her face in his rough hand, he kissed her lightly. "He can't effect you no more, Ellie. He can't hurt you ever again."

Ellie May pecked his lips. "Forrest, he ain't been able to hurt me for a long time because of you…"

They moved inside the house, blasted with a wave of heat coming off the stove. "Hey, Forrest," Ellie May called before he could disappear into his room. "Don't think I don't know that it was you who did that to Clyde Eller's nose."

Forrest grinned. "Did what?"

* * *

**As promised, this one is packed with fluff. We touched back on the aspect of loss but Forrest (and the rest of the Bondurants) is finally at the point where they can put their deaths behind them. This will pretty much be the last time their mother and sisters are mentioned for a while. It's time that they move forward.**

**Anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed! See you next time! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Guys, I'm on a roll. I finished this chapter two days ago and now have chapters fifteen and sixteen completed. Holy cow. **

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

"What in the hell happened to you?" shrieked Ellie May when Jack came inside limping, his backside torn to hell, blood pooling on his clothes. Jack's lip quivered, Howard sniggering quietly at the door, "That would be our daddy."

"Papa did this?" asked Ellie May in disbelief. There was no way she could see that gentle man tearing into a young boy like this, especially his own son.

Howard nodded, "Yep. Jackie here was playing Cowboys and Indians with Cricket, Cricket being the injun, and Jack strung him up in a tree. Boy was about half dead when Forrest found 'em playin'."

"You what?!" Ellie May shouted. "Oh my Lord, is Cricket alright?"

"He's fine," Howard murmured, burping as he snagged him a drink from the cooler. "Bet you he won't be too hip to play Cowboys and Indians anytime soon, though."

"No kiddin'," snorted Ellie May. She smoothed over the sweaty hair clinging to Jack's forehead, "Oh, Jack."

Snatching away from her, he whimpered and slunk off to his room. Howard chuckled, shaking his head as he trotted back to the fields. Emmy, who sat at the kitchen table peeling and slicing potatoes, glanced up at Ellie May. "Why did Jack try to hang Cricket?"

"Oh, honey, he wasn't trying to hurt Cricket. They were just playing pretend. You heard Howard."

"So Jack tried to string him up because he was pretending to be an Indian?"

"Yep," nodded Ellie May, hoping the young girl's curiosity was sated. But Emmy kept going, "Why did he want to hang an Indian?"

Ellie May nearly dropped the kettle of tea in her grasp. "Um…he didn't…well, they were…Emmy, are you done with those potatoes, yet? It's gonna be midnight before we eat supper if you don't hurry up now. Make sure you're being careful with that knife."

Emmy did as she was told, Ellie May settling the kettle on the stove and striking a match. She held the match to the gas burner and watched as it caught flame. Nearly a week had passed since Ellie May had learned of her father's death and, just when things had calmed down on the farm, two bodies were found floating in Shootin' Creek just north of Blackwater. The news had originally meant nothing to Ellie May. She'd merely let it roll of her shoulders, assumed it had been another murder spawned by this new prohibition business that had the entire country in a perpetual state of chaos. But Tuesday when she'd gone down to Papa's General Store to take him some lunch, she'd seen the newspaper slapped down on the counter. On the front page was a black and white photograph of the two men found dead. She recognized the cold faces instantly.

"Did you kill them, Forrest?" she'd asked that night, the dead faces of Clarence Cardinal and Joe Fensky burning in her memory. Her words were calm, quiet, contrary to the sickness gnawing inside her.

"No," he replied in much the same manner, his tone matter-of-fact. "They were alive when we dumped 'em in the river. Must've passed out and drowned."

"And that makes it okay?"

There was little speculation as to who was responsible. It seemed that everyone in Blackwater knew who'd done it, though no one dared to say it aloud. Before the war, Howard had fought many men older than himself and beat them soundly. Once, as a teenager, he'd taken on the two Shively brothers, both hard, violent men in their thirties, and thrashed them both. It was a known circumstance that Howard's thick, slightly gigantic form was a force to be reckoned with, especially when he had something worth fighting for, when it was for more than just good sport. It was accepted that Forrest would follow in his older brother's footsteps. When he whooped Clyde Eller, and after the mess with Ellie May's father, Forrest's name started being tossed around quite a bit. Now, with two dead bodies floating in a river, it seemed that the town's assumption had came true. Forrest was just like his brother after all.

Ellie May tried not to focus on the dead men. They had been bad people, she knew this. They had intended to do awful things to Howard and Danny. Possibly would've done something awful to her had Jack not gotten Danny to intervene. But still, the facts remained the same. Her boys had taken the lives of two others, accidentally or not.

"Ellie May…Ellie May! Shit. Forrest, what's wrong with your woman?" Howard's barking voice snapped her out of her mental ravine. "Woman you've been starring at that damn sink for fifteen minutes now. I been callin' your name."

"Sorry, what?" she blinked.

Across the kitchen Forrest eyed the petite brunette. He knew her exact train of thought and the back of his throat burned with guilt and unease. "She's fine, Howard."

Muttering under his breath, the eldest Bondurant moved around her toward the table, munching on a fresh pear he'd stolen off the trees on the Mitchell's farm. He propped his feet up on the table, crossing at the ankles, his giant boots scattering mud and dirt everywhere. He chewed loudly, his mouth half-open, and pointed his finger at Ellie May. "Somethin's up with you, I know it. You've been actin' funny for days. Well, funnier than usual."

"Let it go, Howard," warned Forrest as he crossed to place his hat on the table. Howard held his hands up in surrender, "I was just askin', Forrest. What crawled up your ass and died?"

"Probably the two men found in Shootin' Creek," muttered Ellie May, facing them.

"Oh," whistled Howard. "Heard about that, didja? Well, that explains it. Look, don't lose any sleep over it. They ain't worth missin', I can promise you that."

"I'm sure," she replied sourly. Suddenly, Danny came bursting through the front door, a jar of rotgut swishing in his hand. "Afternoon, y'all."

"Danny," Howard grunted, eyeing Ellie May. His brother looked ready plow him down so he finished off his pear, tossed the rest in the trash bin by the stove, and tugged at his best friend's collar. "C'mon, Danny, let's give these two some air."

"I'm sorry," she murmured as Howard and Danny clambered out the screen door. She shouldn't have brought it up in front of Howard. Sighing, her shoulders drooped, the cutting board in her hand abruptly feeling heavy. She dropped the plank in the sink, wondering where Emmy had gotten off to and rubbed her forehead. Feeling a slight headache, Ellie May spoke, "I know you did what you had to do. I just..."

Placing his hands on her shoulders, Forrest ran his hands down her arms and pulled her back into his chest, his chin resting on her head. "Don't let this bother you, Ellie. This is my burden to bear."

She laced her fingers through his. "Since when has that stopped mattered?" She turned in his arms, leaning against the sink. "We're in this together, right?" Sighing, she rubbed her face and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "Shit, Forrest."

"Well, y'all sure are smitten," grinned Danny as he stumbled back into the kitchen. Howard was frozen in the doorway behind him, "Sorry…I tried to stop him."

Danny waved, "Oh, don't let me bother you. I just came inside to get a knife. We gone go cut us down some berries."

"Why don't you just go home, Danny," growled Forrest, peeling himself from Ellie May's arms. But Danny merely flashed another smile, revealing his miraculous set of white teeth, evenly set by fresh, pink gums. The brilliant smile seemed odd when coupled with his dirty, young face. "This rascal bothering you, Ellie May?"

Ellie May pursed her lips, barely restraining from rolling her eyes as she scoffed, "Yeah, Danny. You gonna take him out for me?"

Danny swiped the hat from his head, clutching it to his chest. "I'd be honored, ma'am."

"Don't even-" began Forrest but it was too late. Danny swiftly caught him by the midsection, lifting him off his feet. Forrest's eyes widened as Howard took hold of Ellie May's wrist and tugged her out of the way. Forrest's feet found the floor, his fists pounding into Danny's back and side. "Ow, shit! Forrest, take it easy!"

"You started it, Mitchell!" hollered Forrest as he tackled his brother's only friend. They crashed into the table, sending two of the chairs flying. Ellie May squeaked, backing into Howard's burly chest, "Can y'all take it outside, please? The last thing we need is to break all the furniture in this house."

Climbing to their feet, the scrapping duo paused, shoving one another away and smoothing their hair. They eyed one another, chests puffing in and out, both slightly amused. Suddenly, they were out the door and tumbling about the yard. Howard beamed, "Hot damn. Get 'im, Forrest!"

"Keep an eye on them, will you?" asked Ellie May. "I've got laundry to get done before supper."

"Hey, Ellie May," Howard caught her elbow before she could get away from him. The muscle in his jaw flexed and a strange look of hard concentration consumed his face. "Those men, Cardinal and Fensky, they-"

"It's fine, Howard. You don't have to explain anything to me."

"Damn it, woman. Why do you always got to be interruptin' me? Now, hang on, alright? You need to hear this," he told her sternly. Howard licked his lips, "Those men were the wrong sort of people, you understand? They were the kind of men who forced themselves on women-" Ellie May winced. "-and beat their youngin's. They wanted to do a deal with me and Danny, you know, runnin' mule. We told 'em no, didn't need to work with sorry shits like them. They didn't take too kindly to that and tried burning down our still. You know Gummy Coleman?"

Ellie May shook her head and Howard continued. "Well, Gummy went to school with me and Danny. He's been helping us out at the still and when Fensky and Cardinal tried to destroy it, they nearly burned him alive in the process. He's alright, o'course. Boy's a fast runner. But that's besides the point. They'd tried to burn our still down and we had to stop them from pulling shit like that again, so we called in an anonymous tip and the ATU raided their stills."

"I bet they loved that," murmured Ellie May, a frown on her lips.

Howard gave a snort. "Oh, yeah. But you see, Ellie May, when men like that pull shit stunts, we can't take chances. If they're crazy enough to set the damn mountain on fire, ain't no telling what they would've done to you. We've got to protect what's our's. Don't be mad at Forrest. He's just doing what's got to be done."

"I ain't mad," she half-whispered. Blinking away tears, she shrugged lamely. "I'm just worried, Howard. It's not right, what y'all did."

"We didn't mean to kill 'em. That was an accident. But, if it had came down to it, if they'd need killing, we would have," he admitted. "I'm sorry but that's the truth of it."

She appreciated his honesty, sniffling daintily. She assumed killing came easy to Howard; he'd been in a war after all. Danny, too. But had it been easy for Forrest? She patted his arm lightly, "Are y'all okay..?"

"Us?" he asked skeptically. "Shoot yeah, we're fine. For us it's about balance, it's about the universe and the bigger picture and all that stuff."

Ellie May scoffed. She couldn't tell if he was yanking her chain or not but she waved him off. "Alright, I've had enough of you. Go on. I really do have laundry to do before dinner."

"I'll leave you alone," he muttered, backing away. "But, hey, Ellie May…I'm serious, don't go too hard on ole Forrest. Your opinion matters a lot to him. Start lookin' at him like he's a monster, ain't no tellin' what'll happen to that boy's mind."

"He's not a monster. You're not either." She worried her lip, eyeing the eldest Bondurant boy. "Guess y'all are just stronger than most men, able to handle this kind've stuff."

He grinned, tugging on his jacket proudly. "And don't you forget it."

* * *

In November, Jack came to Ellie May, his brow sweaty from laboring in the barn, his skin burned red from the sun, and asked her if Cricket could start coming over to their farm for home schoolin' instead of continuing at the school house in Snow Creek. Ellie May didn't see a problem with it. She liked Cricket, they all did. And she knew he was a well-disciplined boy when it came to studying. But she'd have to talk to Cricket's parents first.

"He ain't got no parents," mumbled Jack, rubbing the back of his neck. Cricket had never known his father, and he'd been living with his Aunt Winnie up on Smith Mountain ever since his mother died.

"Well, then," said Ellie May. "I'll have to speak to this Aunt Winnie then."

That Saturday, Forrest drove Ellie May and Jack up to Smith Mountain to a small cabin with a wide, low porch and a flatten piece of tin hanging over as an awning. The door to the cabin swung open a split second later and Cricket Pate came hobbling down the steps. "Hey ya, Jack! Hey, Forrest! Ms. Ellie May! What're y'all doing all the way up here?"

"Came to see you," grinned Jack. "Actually, came to see Ms. Winnie. Ellie May said she'd teach you like she does me and Emmy."

"Really?" Cricket beamed quickly, a brief flash of a smile, before his young face settled into embarrassment and he stared down at his crooked feet. "Aw, you don't have to do that."

"I'd like to, if you don't mind," said Ellie May softly. "And, of course, if your aunt doesn't mind."

"Aw, she won't care," Cricket shook his head, half-grinning. "Come on in. She's right inside here."

The house was modestly furnished with rough, wood furniture and sanded floors. There was a sideboard cupboard with a few dishes displayed, an open cabinet revealing canned goods on the shelves, a rocking chair draped with a quilt, a King James Bible lying open on the counter. Aunt Winnie sat on the couch, her dress pooled in her lap, her hands working a pair of knitting needles. She was an older woman, her face folded up on itself into an escalating fan of wrinkles, her hair faded snow white, with streaks of gray around her temples and the crown of her head. She barely glanced up when they entered, her fingers never ceasing the steady tempo of their work.

"Yeah, what'chu want?"

"Aunt Winnie, this is my friend Jack Bondurant from school. You remember Jack? And this is his brother, Forrest, and their friend, Ms. Ellie May. They want to talk to you about something."

"Cricket," Forrest rumbled. "Why don't you take Jack to your room, show him around."

"S-sure thing." The boys left in a scurry.

"Hi, ma'am. My name is Ellie May. I went to school with Jack and Cricket. About two years ago I finished with school and I recently pulled out Jack and his sister Emmy. I teach them now, using my old school books and some of their sisters' belongings. They learn every bit of what I was taught at the school in Snow Creek and more. Last week Jack approached me and asked if I'd teach Cricket, too. I suspect there have been some incidents with some of the other students regarding Cricket's…um, disability."

"Disability?" gummed Aunt Winnie, the knitting needles flying in her boney hands. "You talkin' 'bout the boys legs? Yeah, I reckon I'd have made fun of him, too."

Ellie May's jaw nearly dropped. That was an awful thing to say about such a sweet boy, especially your own nephew. Swallowing, she glanced at Forrest's stoic face. "Well, ma'am, if it's alright by you I'd like to help Cricket. I teach Emmy and Jack every evening, so Jack can have the mornings to work before it gets too hot in the fields. Usually we have lessons from about five o'clock to six-thirty, sometimes seven. He'd need paper and pencils but that should be all. We could even drive him home, if you'd like. Seven's a bit late for a young boy to be walking through the mountains."

"Don't be expecting no kind of payment," was all the woman said.

Ellie May met Forrest's gaze. "Is that a yes?" she mouthed and Forrest lifted a single shoulder.

"Okay, we'll start Monday," mumbled Ellie May, watching the frail, old woman work the knitting needles. Forrest fetched Jack and just as they were leaving, Aunt Winnie lifted her head from her lap and asked, "You go to church?"

"Ma'am?"

Finally, the knitting needles paused. Aunt Winnie's wrinkled mouth pulled into a thin line, the jowls of her cheeks hanging over the corners of her lips. "Do you go to church?"

"Every Sunday," replied Ellie May.

Aunt Winnie nodded, gumming her jaw.

* * *

**A little more exploring on the Ellie/Howard front. But not a whole lot of Ellie/Forrest. Which, let's face it, that's really all we're here for. So, I'll give you a short preview of the next chapter: **

Forrest watched the breeze rustle the red and brown leaves on the ground and asked, "Where do you see your life in ten years?"

Ellie May was quiet for a moment, studying the young man before her. Crossing her dangling feet, she steadied her hands on either side of her on the fence. "In ten years…well, hopefully I'll be married…"

**Forrest and Ellie May talk about their future! It's a really cute bit and it's basically how I plan on getting the ball rolling for the rest of the story. **

**Once again, major thanks to those of you who always review. I really appreciate you taking out the time to share your thoughts and feelings. I'm absolutely stoked that so many of you like the story and are continuing to support it. It means a lot. So, just, thank you. **

**p.s. I've got finals this week, so if you're the praying type, prayers are appreciated! Especially Friday, it's **_**math**_**. Gonna need a lot of prayers on that one. **

**p.p.s **The Dark Knight Rises** comes out on Blu-Ray and Digital Whatever today so go buy it! Not only does it have our wonderful Tom Hardy, but you've got Christian Bale, Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman, Michael Caine, and Joseph Gordon Levitt! Plus, like, Anne Hathaway and that other chick from Inception whose name I can never pronounce nor spell properly. It's a great finale to the epic Batman trilogy. Christopher Nolan is a genius, plain and simple. Besides, who doesn't love Batman? **


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello, everyone. I've got some good news and some bad news. Which would you prefer first? ...bad news it is.**

**Bad news is my flashdrive has died. The very same flashdrive that contained every file I have for this story. Or should I say ****_had _as it is now all gone. Erased. Vanished. Bye bye chapter 16, as well as the plot and the previously posted chapters. Totally sucks, right? It was not a good day, guys.**

**The good news is, however, that by some universal act of good karma, my computer managed to save this copy of chapter 15. I don't know why it saved to my desktop instead of the flashdrive but I'm so thankful. Holy cow. I might have cried. In further good news, when I first started with this story, I saved a rough sketch of the plot to my computer, so not all hope is lost their either.**

**We've had a lot of guest reviewers recently. I wish I could thank you all individually but I suppose a group hug will do. So thanks to all you guest reviewers! Also, thank you to the following newcomers for sharing your thoughts; and of course, a major ****_thanks so much!_ to those of you who review every single time. I love you and your loyalty does not go unnoticed. I want to hug you all and talk about how fantastic Tom Hardy is over tea sometime. Or coffee. Whichever you prefer.**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

Forrest hated to admit it, but Tom Cundiff's words that night at the Smooter's place had started getting to him. A simple mass of barely coherent thoughts lazily strung together. That's all they were. But they were itching away at him like a bad fever. _"__There's good money to be made here, Forrest …you can't work your daddy's farm forever."_

He'd tried ignoring Tom's words. Tried to stuff them into the deepest recess of his mind. Back to the same place were unpleasant memories and things like guilt were stored. But, like a slowly dripping faucet, the words wormed their way into the pit of Forrest's stomach where they settled and began to accumulate. The words grew heavy, weighing him down through his day to day activities, and at night they churned and multiplied, keeping him awake until the sun rose the next morning. This carried on for a near two weeks before the words mutated and formed an idea: Forrest would help his brother push the mule.

His original hesitance had nothing to do with the legality of the issue. Forrest had never been one for the law. In his mind, there were only two authority figures he ever held himself up to: his fathers, the one on earth and the one in Heaven. No, his struggle with the idea came in the form of a little girl with stringy brown hair and a scar on her left cheek.

"Ellie May, I got to talk to you 'bout somethin'," he grumbled, leaning against the doorway of her and Emmy's room. The girls were seated on the bed, Emmy in Ellie May's lap as she practiced threading a sewing needle. His little sister paused, the needle in hand, and glanced at Ellie May. Sliding the young girl off of her lap, Ellie May told her to keep working on it, she'd be right back.

"What's the matter?" asked Ellie May upon spotting the pensive look on Forrest's habitually passive face.

"Yeah, umm," the Bondurant boy licked his lips, eyeing the space over her head. "You wanna go for a walk?"

They walked along the edge of the property, Ellie May's hand running down the wooden fence that separated the far corners of their farm from the Brodie's. "What's going on, Forrest?" she asked, her fingers dancing across the wooden posts. Forrest was stalking a few paces ahead of her, his eyes sweeping over the mountains to the north. His steps were awkward, heavy. Ellie May could practically feel the turmoil brewing inside him.

"Ow, shit," she suddenly hissed, yanking her hand from the wood. "Splinter."

Two enormous hands were abruptly on her waist as Forrest lifted her off her feet and set her down on the fence. He cradled her hand in his. Running the tips of his fingers over her palm, he carefully kneaded and manipulated the skin around the splinter until the sliver of wood inched out from beneath the surface. A low hiss drew from Ellie May's lips. "Mhmm, thanks. I hate splinters. I can never get 'em out. Once when I was nine or ten I got a splinter in my foot. It hurt too bad trying to get it out so I left it. Week later it got infected and turned this disgusting yellow for weeks. I thought my momma was going to have a heart attack."

Forrest nodded. He watched as a mountain breeze rustled the red and brown leaves on the ground and asked, "Where do you see your life in ten years?"

Ellie May was quiet for a moment, studying the young man before her. Crossing her dangling feet, she steadied her hands on either side of her on the fence. "In ten years…well, hopefully I'll be married…maybe with a couple of kids…maybe have a cabin somewhere in the mountains like Lucy and Howard. Except unlike Howard, my husband will actually live there, too."

A low hum rumbled in the back of his throat. Forrest spoke, "Husband…?"

Ellie May fought a grin. Hopping down off the post, she placed one hand square in the center of his chest and brought the other to his cheek. She tilted his head down, making him look her in the eye. The question fell from her lips, a whisper, "You gonna marry me, Forrest?"

His heart stopped beating beneath his ribs. It was the second time someone had proposed that question to him. The first time he hadn't answered Howard, smartin' off something or another. This time he couldn't _stop_ himself from answering. "Yes."

He said it immediately before clenching his teeth and swallowing. "I mean….eventually. If you'll have me."

Ellie May gave a small, shy kind of smile. "Of course I'll have you."

He kissed her softly, the very air surrounding her seeming to possess a power over him. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled gently. She felt his body steel beneath her fingertips as he pulled her tightly against him. She could kiss him forever. But she knew there was a bigger reason to Forrest's question. "What's this all about?" she breathed as she drew away, resting her forehead on his.

Licking his lips, Forrest stumbled to speak, "Umm…uhh…"

Ellie May giggled and bit her lip. "Yes?"

Blinking hard, Forrest untangled from her and took a step back. He had to clear his head for a second before nodding, "Right. Howard and Danny have an operating still somewhere on the top of Turkey Cock Mountain, selling liquor to folks from the city. Apparently, they're making good money but they need some help."

Her eyes narrowed, "Now, Forrest-"

"Ellie, let me finish." He held up a hand. "You want to get married, you want kids and a place of our own, we've got to have money to do that."

Ellie May could think of a dozen ways to make money. Illegal booze making wasn't on the list.

"I know it sounds bad, but think about it. I work one or two runs a month. Nothin' big, just little sales here and there. Howard reckons I could bring home about two hundred dollars per run. Now, come on, Ellie. Don't tell me you can argue that."

"I don't like it," she murmured. She wasn't stupid. She knew what Howard and Danny were involved in. She knew about the liquor and the stills. She knew about the ATU. She knew how the local sheriffs were just as addicted to the stuff as the men making it were, knew they turned a blind eye to the distribution happening right under their noses, right out their back doors. She knew it was dangerous. She knew nothing good could come from it.

"If you want to make money so bad, why don't you go back to the sawmill?" she suggested making the muscles in Forrest's jaw flex. He nearly scoffed, mumbling, "Because that worked real well the last time."

Ellie May pursed her lips. "Well, damn it, Forrest, get a job at the feed store in Rocky Mount. Hell, make jelly from the fig trees and sell it at the flea market in Burnt Chimney. Something. Anything. But this? This is dangerous and stupid. It's bad enough Howard's involved, but you, too?" Leaning against the fence, she shook her head, "You're better than that, Forrest."

"Ellie May, look at me."

She did as he asked, lifting her eyes to his. Forrest towered over her, the contours of his face softened, almost pleading with her to understand. "Ellie, I have to take care of you. And this is how I'm gonna do it."

Ellie May knew Howard had been right to some degree when he'd said that Forrest valued her opinion; she just had no idea how much that statement rang true. But standing in the middle of the barren woods, the trees stripped of their leaves, the animals burrowed underground, Ellie May saw the raw vulnerability in Forrest when he looked at her. There was no deny it, he was opening himself up to her completely. There was no holding back, no false pretenses of strength or courage. Just Forrest and his own self-doubt. He'd made his mind up; he was going to do this with or without her consent, but it sure would make things a lot easier on him if he had her support.

She fingered a loose button on his sweater. "You need to let me fix that."

"Ellie…"

Drawing a deep breath, she repeated him, "Two hundred dollars a month for one or two runs?"

He nodded. The petite woman's lips frowned and she shook her head, "Damn it, Forrest, if you don't like making me worry. I want to know when you'll be making the runs, and where to. Who you're selling to, who's going with y'all. I need to-"

He kissed her soundly, scooping her up into his arms, a low laugh rising up his throat. He pressed his lips to her mouth, her cheeks, her nose, chuckling as he did so. Ellie May laughed, too, slinging her arms around his neck as they twirled together. When they slowed and he set her back on the ground, he continued to kiss every available inch of skin she had. Giggling, she swatted at him halfheartedly. "I'm serious, Forrest. I'm going to need every last detail."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded with a wide grin. Cupping her face, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and pinned her with a stare so alive, so passionate that it made her head spin. "I love you, do you know that?"

Ellie May's heart leapt, a swarm of butterflies mounting in her stomach. "I love you, too, Forrest," she said. And she meant it. She meant it with her whole heart.

* * *

Nearing dark and trudging through the underbrush up the side of Turkey Cock Mountain, Forrest followed his brother a few paces behind and off to the side so as to not create the hint of a trail. Howard was making his way almost silently through the jimsonweed and the bits of bluestone that protruded from the mountain and Forrest knew if weren't for the last rays of sunlight falling over the tree tops, he'd have a hard time following his brother. It slightly amazed Forrest that someone so massive and clumsy can make such quiet steps when he wanted.

After a short plateau, the two men walked through a copse of leafless and spindled birch trees, then a dense thicket of pine and gum that stood against the side of an exposed rock face nearly forty feet high. Firelight flickered at the base of the rock and Forrest grimaced at the thought of how it would look from down in the valley; the square jolt of mountain rock lit up like a clear sign. But nobody would come up here, even if they knew. Especially if they knew. One of the easiest ways to end up with a faceful of buckshot was to creep up on an active moonshine camp at night.

As they neared, Howard began to call out toward the light, a series of high, repeated whoops.

Tom Cundiff sat on a log staring into the fire, a shotgun over his knees. He wore a scuffed bowler hat pulled low, a wool scarf tight around his neck. Behind him, the still sat in the shadows, a hulking mass of dark metal. Forrest drank in the camp, littered with firewood, cans of blackstrap molasses, empty tins of potted meat and cracker wrappers. The edges of his mouth turned down distastefully.

Tom shot Forrest a lazy grin, shifting the gun on his lap. "When Danny told me you were gonna help out, I half didn't believe him."

"I was told y'all needed some more muscle." Forrest eyed Tom and his lanky partner Gummy Coleman, who was splayed out in front of the mash boxes they'd hammered out the week before. "Now, I can see why."

"Aw, shut up, Forrest," called Gummy, ears burning red 'cause he knew Forrest was talking about him.

Howard slapped the bottom of Gummy's feet real hard, shooting a painful jolt up his spine. "Don't talk to my brother like that," growled Howard, only half joking. Gummy sort of whined, bringing a practically empty jar of white lightening to his lips. The blood pounded in his temples and he felt the booze thrumming in his body. His nose ran freely and he wiped it on the sleeve of his coat, hiccupping, "W-what you think a-about it, Forrest?"

"He thinks it's lovely, now shut up and go keep post," demanded Howard, giving Gummy a swift kick to the ass. Gummy rolled into the dirt and leaves, laying still for a moment, before climbing awkwardly to his feet and slinking off into the trees. Howard watched him go, "I don't know why you like keeping that piece of shit around for, Cundiff."

Tom shrugged nonchalantly. "Better than being up here alone, I suppose. Gets real spooky up here at night by yourself."

"As long as he keeps you warm through the night," grinned Howard. Tom's eyes narrowed, "Fuck you."

"Didn't we just establish that's why Coleman's for. Shit, Tom, keep up."

Tom went to snap something back, ready to toss the gun aside and tackle the big oaf, but Forrest swiftly cut him off, "Alright, you two, that's enough."

"Aww, he knows I'm just messing with him," snickered Howard, rummaging through the firewood until he found a long plank of pine. "Don't you, Tommy? Hell, Forrest, Tom here's a damn near perfect partner. This boy can mix up a solid mash every time. He can measure the bead and proof just by lookin' at it. Besides, he keeps his mouth shut. Ain't that right, Tom?"

But again, all Tom Cundiff could say was, "Fuck you."

Forrest didn't know about Tommy keeping his mouth shut, seeing as how what he'd said to Forrest was the whole reason he was on the damn mountain. But he knew Tom was a good guy. According to Howard he'd been up on the mountain guarding the still for the past four days and it looked like he hadn't slept a wink in all that time. Yeah, he was an excellent guard dog alright.

Taking the plank, Howard stirred the brewing liquid in the mash boxes, checking under the cap of malt, dipping in his finger and tasting the not quite ready mule. Before the light completely faded from the sky, they needed to get the first batch in the still as the mash was already fermenting into a foamy, lumpy mess. Another fifteen minutes or so and the foam would rise and overflow the mash boxes.

"Tom," Howard called.

Cundiff rose from the fire and together they dragged the long half tube of beaten metal up to the still and set up the flue that they had diverted from an old bathtub. The flue would carry a good stream of fresh water down to the cooling barrel that held the coil. An hour later, the three men had the first two mash boxes of mule cooking in the still and Tom popped the top off a fresh jar of corn whiskey, sending the metal lid spinning off into the darkening woods with a flick of his wrist. The first sip was like swallowing hot ash, and then the sip that followed strangely cool, like a refreshing drink from the spring water that flowed into their flue. He offered Forrest and Howard a drink.

"I'm not staying," murmured Forrest, staring at the glowing coals in the fire.

Tom's eyes widened in a slight panic and Howard rolled his eyes. "Don't shit yourself just yet, Tommy. I'm staying. You can go home and sleep, but I need you to show Forrest the way back down the mountain."

"I can manage," Forrest declined Tom's help. Besides, the Cundiff boy looked like he could barely walk, much less make it down the mountain without passing out. Forrest tipped his hat to his brother and their friend, "Y'all have a good night. I'll see ya in the morning."

"Hey, Forrest," called Howard before Forrest made it to the edge of the plateau. His older brother abandoned his spot by the fireside, rubbing his neck bashfully as he approach. "Look, I know it ain't much but…it's good money and…well, you know Danny and Tom. Gummy, he ain't so bad. He's good at doing what he's told. But I really do need you here, Forrest. I ain't sayin' it's dangerous but folks are getting' crazy over this shit and, while Tom and Danny can usually handle themselves, most of the fellas tend to come after me. Figure they'll take me out and the others'll run. I ain't sayin' I need help fighting, but it'll just make things easier if you're here, is all."

Forrest licked his lips and nodded. "I'll see you in the morning, Howard."

"We leave at four o'clock."

"Four o'clock," repeated Forrest. And then he was gone.

The Bondurant boy was only half surprised to find Ellie May waiting up for him when he returned to the farm. She was bundled up on the front porch, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands, her eyes drooping as she fought to stay awake. As he approached, he said nothing but pulled her to stand and led her inside. They drew to the stove side in the family room and Forrest divulged the details of the run to come the following morning, his first run. When he was finished, he plucked something out of the front pocket of his sweater.

"Here," Forrest said, passing her the brand new pair of brass knuckles he'd bought off Willy Deshazo earlier that day. She took the heavy weapon from him, flipping the knuckles over in her palm before eying him like he'd handed her a dead rat or somethin', "Forrest, what the hell am I supposed to do with these?"

A quick chuckle burst from within him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as a rare and wide smile graced his face. "You ain't gonna do shit with 'em," he chortled. "They're for me. Figure it would make you happy to know I had 'em."

"And why would that make me happy?" she snorted, shoving the knuckles at his chest. The idea of Forrest carrying around the heavy metal implement purely designed for crushing another man's face was hardly a comfort.

He took the knuckles from her, slide them on his right hand, and flexed his fingers. "Cause they'll protect me should something go bad." Ellie May's face soured and he hastily added, "Which it won't. Not as early as we're going."

The petite woman before him crossed her arms over her chest. "Why _are_y'all going so early?"

"S'like I said…it's better, safer," he replied. The local sheriff and his deputies couldn't give two shits about prohibition, but that didn't mean law enforcement from the surrounding counties would be so kind. "We were going to make the run tonight 'round midnight, but the mash isn't ready."

Her eyebrows pinched together and she placed her hand on his arm. "You know I'll be a wreck until you come back. So hurry. And be careful. Don't do anything stupid…don't let your brother do anything stupid."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. The concern on her face was touching but he wished she wouldn't worry so much. It wasn't necessary. Everything would be fine, he could feel it in his bones. Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her temple and Ellie May spoke into his chest, urging him to go to bed since he had to get up so damn early. He glanced out the window at the black night sky, reckoned he had about five or six hours before he had to meet his brother and the others at the still. Wasn't enough time for him to get some sleep. He was too anxious for that anyway.

He tugged the quilt off the back of the couch, propping his legs up as he threw the thick blanket over their joined bodies. "Stay with me?" he asked, a few moments later, the question practically a whisper.

But Ellie May never replied; she was already asleep.

* * *

**Finals are over. Thank God. For those who prayed for me - a major thanks to you. It paid off. I got a 91 on my math final, complete worlds away from the 74 I got on the last test. I love you all. With finals out of the way I'll hopefully be able to update more. That being said, it is the holidays and I usually work a lot around Christmas to make up for the continual blows to my bank account. But don't worry, I won't forget about you all. I'm far too in love with Forrest, and I'm sure you feel the same. **


	17. Chapter 17

**Holy macaroni, you guys are not going to believe this. It's like a sign from the universe or something. Today someone came into the office where I work and guess what the guy's name was...CLYDE ELLER!**

**I almost died. I. Almost. Died. My boss thought I was having a mental breakdown. Seriously, ladies and gents, the universe is trying to tell us something here.**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

Two months, five runs, and nearly one thousand dollars later, Forrest was feeling a whole lot better about this illegal liquor business. So far he had yet to reap the benefits of this new monetary gain. Every single dollar made on the runs was wrapped in forgotten newspaper clippings and placed in the mason jar Ellie May kept in the bottom drawer of her dresser. Ellie May tried to hide her own excitement about the growing fund. She attempted to feign disinterest; she didn't want to encourage him, after all. But the mason jar was filling quickly and she couldn't help but grin _just a little_every time Forrest stuffed the folded bills away.

"What are you gonna do with all that money?" teased Danny Mitchell one night after a late run. Howard said nothing, but eyed his little brother knowingly as Forrest smiled to himself. Howard, too, was unable to splurge with his new found funds. Though he kept one or two of the smaller bills, crumpled ones and fives, nearly every dollar he earned was begrudgingly given to his wife, and was then used to pay the water bill or buy groceries. But he couldn't complain, he guessed. That's what husbands were supposed to do, wasn't it?

Danny sighed, his head lulling back, his bright eyes wide as he took in the ever expansive sky. Suddenly, he shot up, arm extended toward the Heavens, a smile on his face. "Y'all see that? A shooting star!"

"How old are you, Danny?" grumbled Howard, kicking his best friend's foot, nearly knocking over a jar of mule in the process.

The eldest Mitchel boy shot Howard a withering look but felt a little better when he saw Forrest's curious gaze lift, his eyes searching the black sky. Danny closed his eyes to make a wish, and told Forrest to do the same. He heard Howard mutter some choice words beneath his breath. Ignoring him, Danny made his wish.

"Well, out with it," barked Howard. "What'd you wish for?"

"If he tells you it won't come true," muttered Forrest. "Everybody knows that." Tugging his hat lower over his face, Forrest fought a yawn and stood. It was Howard's night to watch the still, Gummy Coleman and Tom Cundiff having already gone home. He knew Danny would most likely stay with Howard to keep him company through the night. He also knew Howard would be ever grateful, though he'd sooner pull out every single one of his teeth than admit it. Because it was the nights Howard spent alone, the nights when he was left to his thoughts and memories, that tempted him to drinking. Those were the nights when his throat burned and his skin itched until he cooled them with a jar or two or_ five _of white lightening.

"Goodnight, y'all."

Danny nodded, reclined against the mash boxes, "Night, Forrest. See ya tomorrow."

Howard said nothing but nodded, his eyes speaking volumes. The corners of Forrest's mouth peaked a bit at the pride he saw in Howard's gaze. His older brother was proud of him. Forrest nodded, trekking back over the mountain; he was kinda proud of Howard, too.

* * *

It wasn't hard finding the cabin in Penbrook. Or, rather, it was much easier than Ellie May expected. She'd gotten directions from Papa Bondurant, not wanting to bother Forrest and not particularly keen on asking Howard. The cabin was a bit more than modest. No bigger than the school house in Rocky Mount, the cabin was without a porch and the tin roof hung low and slightly lopsided. There were a few homey touches to the exterior - a handful of potted plants by the door, faded and mismatched curtains in the windows, a rusted weather vane staked in the red dirt. She knocked three times before Lucy answered, a fearful look about her that only relaxed somewhat when she realized who it was. They both pretended not to notice the shotgun Lucy tucked against the doorframe.

"I'm sorry if I came at a bad time," said Ellie May with a small smile. "Were you busy?"

Lucy's hands twitched, like her arms wanted to cross over her chest. She shook her head. "Finishin' up some housework. I, um, I just made some tea if you'd like some."

The invitation was forced and Ellie May knew Lucy wanted her to decline the offer. Ellie May replied, "I'd love to, but maybe some other time? I just wanted to stop by and ask a favor. You know Jack's birthday is next week and I was wondering if you could help me make a red velvet cake. Forrest says it's his favorite but I've never made one. Think you'd be up to it?"

The frail woman looked a tad more than surprised. Ellie May could see it was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but eventually Lucy brought herself to agree with a shaky, half-nod. Ellie May beamed, "Really? Great. Thank you, Lucy. I really appreciate your help. Why don't you come by the house Friday morning? We can have his birthday supper that night."

Lucy swallowed, blinking slowly. "Alright."

The week seemed to drag on with a painful dullness before Friday morning finally rolled around. The Bondurants had a small breakfast, everyone wishing Jack a happy birthday with pats on the back and little grins. After they ate, their family dispersed for yet another day of hard labor leaving Ellie May alone to greet Lucy when she pulled into the drive. The thin woman tentatively approached the open screen door and Ellie May beckoned her forward. "Come on in. Everyone's outside. We've got the whole house to ourselves."

Her words were meant to comfort Lucy because she got a feeling Lucy wasn't too fond of crowds. Unfortunately, the timid fidgeting and shifty glances told her that Lucy was a far cry from comfortable as she stepped inside. _Best hurry up and get that woman cooking_, thought Ellie May. "Why don't you go ahead and get started. I'm gonna check on Emmy; she's doing a load of laundry out back. I think I've got everything you need on the counter. If you don't see something, check the cabinet."

Ellie May left for a moment, gliding down the hallway, and Lucy let out a strangled breath, her tense shoulders slumping. Lucy hesitated in the empty kitchen before proceeding toward the counter. She eyed the various items splayed across the countertop. Instantly, she detected three missing ingredients: cocoa powder, salt, and distilled vinegar. Ellie May had also gotten the wrong flour – they needed all-purpose, not self-rising. She also noted a lack of confectioner's sugar, something they'd need for the frosting. She did as directed and checked the cabinet, finding only salt and vinegar. When Ellie May returned a moment later, Lucy relayed all of this and watched a small frown spread across the younger girl's face. "Well," she huffed. "Sorry 'bout that. Reckon we'll need to go to town."

"Can I come?" asked a squeaky voice. The women turned to see Emmy lingering in the hallway, her expression hopeful yet uncertain.

Ellie May smiled. Emmy never wanted to go out. "Sure thing, sweetie. Well, if Aunt Lucy says you can go. What do you think, Lucy? Can we get any use out of her?"

Lucy's lips parted but no sound came out. Emmy blinked up at her, her little eyelashes patting her cheeks still rounded with baby fat. Lucy swallowed and forced herself to speak, "Um, we might need some help carrying everything…you better tag along, Emmy."

Emmy beamed and Ellie May clapped her hands. "Alright, let me fetch the keys and we can be on our way as soon as Emmy gets some shoes on."

Instead of heading all the way to Rocky Mount, they drove to Papa's General Store at the base of the mountain to pick up what they needed. Papa got a kick out of seeing Emmy and Lucy, the gaggle of men who frequented the old pot-bellied stove shoving their spit jars aside to comment on Emmy's growth and how pretty she'd gotten. After half an hour of small talk and gushing over Emmy, they got the special sugar and cocoa, then returned to the house.

Ellie May instantly put Lucy in charge and once Lucy had a wooden spoon in one hand and a bowl in the other, she began dishing out orders. Both Emmy and Ellie May did as she instructed without question and soon the entire kitchen was a flour and sugar covered mess. Just as Lucy slide the cake in the oven, Howard's giant frame lumbered in the back door, his hands clean but his dungarees and undershirt covered in crimson. He and Forrest had just delivered their second calf that month and he was tired of smelling cow blood. His stomach rumbling, he bellowed, "Damn, woman, you ain't made lunch yet?"

Ellie May spun on him, eyes narrowed, prepared to tell him to fix his own damn lunch, when she spotted the red stains dotting his clothing. "Howard Bondurant! What the hell is wrong with you?! You know better! Get out of here! Comin' in here covered in blood, what's wrong with you?"

Jack, who stumbled in behind his older brother, snickered and shouted, "Yeah, Howard, go on!"

"Shut up, Jack. Don't think I won't beat you. Even if it is your birthday," snapped Howard, eyes hungrily sweeping the kitchen. "What's that?"

Lucy saw her husband eyeing the bowl of cream cheese frosting and swiftly smacked his hand away with her spoon. "I don't think so."

"What is it?" squeaked Jack, trying to snatch the bowl away, but Emmy blocked her brother's path, stubby arms crossing over her chest, "Nuh uh."

"Move, Emmy," murmured Jack. He tried to shove his sister out of his way, but Howard snatched him back, asking the women, "What about our lunch?"

"We'll get you your lunch as soon as you get out of this house. We're serious, Howard. You're practically dripping blood! Y'all get!" Ellie May spat impatiently, forcing back a laugh as Lucy swatted them away with her spoon. The brothers hissed with each thwack of the wooden spoon, muttering 'ouch' or 'shit, woman.' Emmy, sensing that Lucy needed some help, grabbed a fistful of flour and threw it on her brothers, shouting for them to get out.

"Alright, alright," grumbled Howard, hands rising in surrender. Tugging Jack along as he retreated, the eldest Bondurant male snapped, "But y'all hurry up now. I'm hungry!"

When the back door swung shut behind the boys, the kitchen erupted in laughter. The women eyed one another merrily, little Emmy's high shrieks echoing off the walls. "Shoot, that was fun," breathed Ellie May when their giggles died down. The muscles in her stomach and face clenched from all the laughter. "Reckon I ought to get them some lunch fixed, though. Emmy, take 'em some tea in the meantime. Tell 'em I'll have some of that leftover chili heated up in a minute."

Emmy did as she was told and Ellie May lifted the pot of chili from the cooler, lighting the stove. She eyed Lucy, who'd grown quiet, her gaze lost on the floor. She elbowed the older woman lightly. "You alright over there?"

"Hmm?" murmured Lucy, her head snapping up. "Sorry…"

"S'okay," grinned Ellie May, turning her attention to the men's lunch but Lucy's soft words called her back.

"I wasn't always like this," said Lucy quietly, her already mousy voice nearly inaudible. She shot Ellie May a tight lipped frown, nervously pushing her hair back behind her ears. "I used to be fun. I used to be young...but after losing Thomas and the others-"

Ellie May internally cringed. She often forgot about the death of Howard and Lucy's first child and the two miscarriages that followed. Lucy just seemed so young, _too_ young.

"-and then Howard was gone, off to war, and it was _so_ hard. I was alone all the time in that damn cabin with nothing but the memories of my dead babies." Lucy's voice broke, her eyes watering and Ellie May watched as she gripped the kitchen counter for support, the wooden spoon quivering in her grasp. Her shoulders shook for a moment, her eyes glazing over as she attempted to maintain some level of composure. Her gaze lifted to stare out the window and she said, "He respects you, you know."

The younger girl's brow furrowed. "Howard? I'm sure."

The corner of Lucy's mouth tilted upwards. "No really," she urged, finally glancing at Ellie May.

"He does. He talks about you all that time, 'bout how you're schoolin' Jack and Cricket and Emmy. How you're taking care of Granville. He respects you for what you've done for his family. He even quit drinking because of you."

"What?" Ellie May couldn't help but snort at the ridiculous notion. Howard quitting drinking? Yeah, right. When pigs fly. But the sternness of Lucy's expression and the fact that she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Howard with a jar in his hands, made Ellie May's chest tighten. "All be damned."

Lucy concurred. "I've been trying to get him to quit for years. It wasn't too bad before the war, but I never liked it. No matter what I said or did - well, threatened to do - he refused to stop. Least until you said something. He wouldn't elaborate but I got the sense that you ripped him a new one."

Ellie May vaguely remembered the night Howard had drunkenly stumbled in while she'd been half-dead from exhaustion, up in the wee hours of morning sewing Emmy's dress. She couldn't recall what she'd said, only the numb rage that had been boiling in her blood when she'd said it. Wincing, she apologized but Lucy waved a dismissive hand. "Don't apologize. I guess I should be thanking you."

"The only thing you need to thank me for is getting you out of that cabin for the day. Lucy, any time you want some fresh air or company, you know our door is always open," murmured Ellie May. Suddenly, the irony of the moment struck her. It wasn't too long ago that Granville was saying much the same thing to her. It was strange to think that now it was her place to offer the solace of the Bondurant farm to another. Even stranger was the fact that they were more Lucy's family than Ellie May's, at least in the technical sense. She did share their last name, after all. But Ellie May reckoned it wouldn't be too long before she shared it, too.

The back door slammed abruptly and Emmy trampled back inside, the tea tray empty in her hands. "They said thanks but they're still hungry."

Ellie May shot Lucy a tight lipped frown. "Sometimes I think I hate your husband."

Lucy snorted. "Join the club."

* * *

"Which one is a synonym?"

Cricket frown, his dirty lips bending around the pencil he was chewing. His brow was drawn in intense concentration and Ellie May could see the frustration burning in his tired gaze. He quit chewing the pencil and asked, "Frightened?"

"Very good. Alright, now which one is an antonym?" The young boy's gaze widened slightly. But Ellie May extinguished his doubt before it could blaze, "No. Don't panic. Cricket, we just went over this. You know this. What's a synonym?"

"Somethin' that means the same thing."

"And what's an antonym?"

"Not a synonym…" he murmured hesitantly but Ellie May only nodded, "So if it's not the same, it's…?"

"The opposite?"

"Exactly!" grinned Ellie May. She pointed at the list of words she'd written on the piece of paper. "What's the opposite of scared and frightened?"

He scanned the list. "Calm?"

The smile on her face told him he was right and Cricket shot Jack a grin across the table. Jack mirrored his best friend's smile, then cowered when Ellie May turned her gaze on him. Teaching three kids, Ellie May tried to pick one topic a night and focus within that subject. Tonight was English. But, as the three kids were years apart, she often created individual exercises for them to do. Cricket got a list with some words. Emmy got pictures with fill-in-the-blank words beneath them. And Jack got written sentences he had to copy to practice handwriting. Ellie May said everyone had to do it at some point, that it helped them become familiar with the way words and letters were supposed to look. But Jack assumed it was because he hated writing. Every time he put pencil to paper his letters came out looking like chicken scratch.

"Jack, are you finished?"

He licked his lips. "Um, no, ma'am. Almost, though. I'm trying to take my time, you know? So it looks real nice. You can't rush these things."

Ellie May gave a soft laugh in spite of herself and nodded, "Alright, Picasso. Hurry up and finish. Emmy, how're you doing, sweetie?"

"What'd she call you?" murmured Cricket as Ellie May reviewed Emmy's work. Jack shrugged, "I dunno. Pick-a-somethin'."

The wall clock hanging by the cooler read seven-fifteen and they'd be wrapping up soon so Forrest and Ellie May could drive Cricket home. It wasn't necessary that they both go; Forrest was more than capable of taking the boy home himself. But they liked the ride home from Smith Mountain. It was the one part of the day where Ellie May and Forrest really got to be alone.

"Hey, Ellie," called Forrest, sticking his head in the front door. "You might want to go on and get started with supper. Don't look like we'll be leaving anytime soon."

"Why?" she asked, glancing at the clock.

"Something's wrong with the truck and Papa's got the other Ford," he murmured. That's when she noticed the dark black smudges on his hands and the thighs of his pants. She nodded, "Yeah, alright. But y'all better hurry. You're running out of daylight."

"Yeah, we know."

"Hey, Forrest," Cricket piped up, standing from the table. "Mind if I come take a look?"

It was no secret that Cricket liked tinkering with engines. He had the right kind of mind to be good with things like automobiles and tractors. He was able to focus real well and was good at working with his hands. Not two weeks ago the tractor on the farm neighboring Aunt Winnie's property broke down, and Cricket was the one who found the rock lodged between the blades. Forrest didn't see a problem letting him watch as they fiddled with the truck but he looked to Ellie May for confirmation. She shrugged, "We were wrapping up anyway."

Forrest licked his lips. "Alright, come on."

Jack and Cricket burst from the table, racing out the front door, and Emmy watched them go. Ellie May patted her arm, "You can go watch, too, if you'd like."

Emmy shook her head. "You need help with dinner."

"While I could always use your helping hand, and what a helpful hand it is, I think I can manage tonight. Though I don't know why you'd want to go watch." Sitting around watching the men fool with that engine held no appeal to her.

"No, it's alright. I like helping you," admitted Emmy as she slid off her chair and began gathering their school supplies. While Emmy cleared the table, Ellie May leaned back and gazed out the window. Howard and Cricket were leaning under the open hood of the ancient truck's engine, Forrest shimmying beneath the belly of the vehicle. Jack crouched at Forrest's feet, passing him various tools and such, squinted as the sun faded beneath the tree line.

"Ellie May?" asked Emmy.

"Yes, sweetheart? Sorry."

"We're gonna fix supper, right?"

Ellie May smiled softly, pulling the little girl into her lap. "Yep. We're gonna fix supper, you and me, kiddo."

Emmy curled her small fists into Ellie May's hair and hugged her neck. "Love you, Ellie May," she mumbled, her words faintly muffled.

Ellie May's chest seized. "I love you, too, Emmy."

* * *

**There you have it, folks. As promised, **KaicherAlfstan, **here was your bit with Lucy and her powerful, unyielding spoon. I hope it met your expectations. **

**Um, so whoever was in charge of editing this (me) was super lazy. But you guys are used to that, right? I guess I should apologize for her (still me). What are we gonna do about her (again, me)? She thinks she just runs this stuff. I've seriously gotta have a talk with her (with myself). Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I don't know why but it was very hard to get this to publishing stage. I struggled a lot with the middle. The beginning and end were almost effortless but the main substance…I don't know. It just wouldn't work with me. **

**I doubt I'll get another chapter out before Christmas. If not, look for one there shortly after. And, for those who celebrate the holiday, Merry Christmas! I hope everyone's holiday is great and that everyone traveling stays safe. No texting and driving! No drinking and driving! Okay? Great, thanks. **

**Until next time, my friends. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello, my friends! I hope everyone's holidays have been going well so far. Mine went fairly well. I did a lot of traveling before landing the flu courtesy of my five year old niece (the little girl in my profile picture). I've spent the last three days in a Nyquil induced coma. So…that was fun. But all in all, I'm doing alright.**

**In keeping with the holiday spirit I decided to do a brief little bit about how I think the Bondurants would spend Christmas. The chapter opens with Granville reflecting on his family during the holidays and then picks up after New Years. As a Christmas present to you loyal readers, basically the second half of this chapter is nothing but Forrest and Ellie May fluff. I hope you enjoy it. **

**As always, a major thank you to the following: **coronacowgirl, _Not. So. Typical. Girl_., _Priscilla2_, lynnshouseyahoo, irene-alejohotmail. com, laura, anthony temean, Kelly, _KaicherAlfstan_, Tiffytutu2, irene, jones, _Daisygirl95, 26RH, Kay1104, Dawnie-7_, nuno nunes, deppfreak4234, Lovin' It, mz mayne, Cyanide Laced, Monica, EteSoliels, _JohnnyStormsGirl_, emptyshotglass, Drew13, ILgirl76, Lori white, Estell, _Laura Page Turner_, **, and, of course, all of you lovely **guest** reviewers. If your name is italicized, it's because you frequently review, if not every time, and I just want you to know it is appreciated. I love every single one of your reviews. They make me so happy. It's a little sad how often I check my email hoping to see one. Your words are always kind and constantly push me to try harder with this story. I'm so, so glad you guys seem to love it as much as I do. **

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Granville Bondurant was the first to stir that frosty December morning. He rose with the sun as it crept sleepily across the cascading hills and snow-covered mountain tops. Their home was quiet, his children, both young and old, still nestled peacefully in their beds. Granville fixed himself a cup of coffee, which he drank on the back porch, before stuffing his feet into faded boots and pulling on his coat. He walked around the barn, up through the barren woods, to a knoll that, during the summertime, was usually covered in white and yellow dandelions and tufts of Johnson grass.

His eyes stung as he knelt onto the snow on top of the little hill, three wooden crosses staring boldly back at him. His hand shook as he brushed his fingertips over the largest cross that sat in the middle. He spoke softly, his words lost to the wind. At first, he spoke of fickle things, everyday occurrences and mundane facts about his life. Then, he spoke of the growing love between his middle son and the woman he knew he would one day proudly call his daughter. And he spoke of Emmy and Jack's growth; Cricket's, too. He spoke of Howard and Lucy and their continuous struggle to bring another into the world. He spoke about the changes in the funny world around them. Finally, he spoke about the ache in his heart and mind, the ache in his soul. Granville spoke until his pants were soaked through at the knees and his legs began to freeze.

When he finally brought himself to stand, his stiff body mirrored the ache in his chest and he stretched his back, reminded once again that the days of his youth were long gone. He was becoming an old man, if he wasn't one already. He was becoming his father.

Pressing his fingers to his lips, he touched the crosses, whispering, "I love you," to each one. He stared at the middle cross a moment longer. His heart thumped beneath his lungs and he swallowed thickly, willing the tears away. A low tizzy of snowflakes began to fall and he forced himself to turn away and trek back to the house. But not before he kissed the middle cross one last time and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Dorothy."

Being that particular morning, Granville mused, it wouldn't be long before the others were up, especially the younger ones. Soon, the entire house would be alive with excited chatter, shared laughter, and lots of great commotion. They would speed through breakfast – Emmy and Jack doing their best to stuff their little mouths as quickly as possible in hopes of dashing off to the family room where the festivities awaited. After their plates were empty, they would do as the children wished and gather in the family room around the large balsam fir tree; the same tree that Howard and Forrest had chopped down and dragged to the house through the mountains over three miles of snow-laden forest. There would be presents, accompanied by eggnog or apple cider depending on Ellie May's mood. Then, once the gift exchange was over, they would gather around the fire to listen to the radio broadcast reading of _Twas the Night Before Christmas_, like they did every year.

Everyone would stay close to the house for the rest of the day, enjoying each other's company and the Christmas spirit. Finally, around three or four that afternoon, they would be seated at the kitchen table for supper – a Christmas feast of ham, creamed corn, greens, mashed potatoes, biscuits, cracklings and gravy, cranberry sauce, and sweet potato casserole. If they were lucky, dinner would be followed by desert, either a pan of chess squares, a cake-like vanilla brownie, or a pecan pie. Sometimes they got both.

That night the younger children would be allowed to stay up late, reveling in the last few hours of Christmas before their world returned to normal, the adults gradually following them to bed. Then, exactly one year later, they would rise to do it all over again.

* * *

The holidays that year brought a lot of good fortune to the Bondurant family. Maybe the universe was trying to balance out the all wrong it had done them by churning out constant profits from the still. Folks up north were racking up liquor by the truckload, stocking up for Christmas parties and such. It seemed that they were making nearly three runs a week and in the month of December alone Forrest had made right at three thousand dollars. To top it off, the day before New Year's Eve, Forrest and Howard made one final run without Danny or Tom or Gummy Coleman, and had brought home twelve hundred dollars to be split between the two of 'em. Yeah, the holidays were looking mighty bright that year.

Forrest knew just what he was going to do with the money. He was going to stick with the plan and save up for his and Ellie May's future. He just wasn't expecting that future to come knocking so soon.

"The County Line restaurant's shutting down," murmured his father conversationally as he hauled a six foot section of scrap metal up the ladder to pass to Forrest. The week before one hell of a snow storm had landed on Franklin County like you wouldn't believe. Nearly the whole county had to shut down because of the outrageous winds alone; the same winds that sent three massive oak trees crashing into their barn. As a result, part of the barn's back wall and roof had to be replaced and the men were finishing up the last of the repairs now.

Forrest eyed his father. So what The County Line was closing; should that be news to him? But their father only nodded, scratching at his gruffy beard when Forrest finally took the metal from him. He leaned against the roof, feet firmly planted on the ladder rung. "Yep. Hank decided to close the place down when his wife ran off with that preacher fella from Boone's Mill. I figure he's going to try and hunt her down, maybe win her back."

Not a man of idle gossip, Papa must've been hinting at something and waiting for him to catch on. As Forrest drug the metal up the roof to where Howard was crouched, hammering away, he grunted, "Is that so?"

"Yeah," nodded Papa. He observed his sons as they secured the roofing, watching with a hawk-like gaze for any gaps or spots for potential leaks. When he was satisfied that they were doing okay, he retreated down the ladder to snag the final chunk of roofing.

"It's a shame about The County Line," he said, passing the metal to Forrest. "Lots of folks depended on that place for a steady job, including Little Bean Deshazos' grandson Jefferson. That many folks without a job means a lot of mouths unfed. Somebody really ought to buy the place and keep it running."

So that's what he was getting at.

Forrest looked at his brother, who merely snorted, "What? He ain't talkin' to me. This one's all on you, little brother."

"You want me to but The County Line?" asked Forrest, frowning when his father gave an innocent smile and said, "Well, now ain't that an idea."

"What am I gonna do with a restaurant? Besides, what makes you think I could afford to keep up a place like that?"

Papa pulled a face. Something about that familiar expression told Forrest his father knew _exactly_ how much money Forrest had and just what he'd done to earn it. But, Papa merely said, "I suppose you could, hell, I don't know, run it."

"And what do I know about running a restaurant?" asked Forrest, amused. Their father wasn't making any sense. Where was this coming from?

"The way I see it," murmured Papa, shifting his weight on the ladder. "You got a little woman in there," he motion toward the house. "That knows how to cook just about every damn thing on this planet. And what she doesn't know how to cook, she learns. I also happen to know that you're good with numbers, Forrest, and a good, smart, _patient_ man. Any child with the control to put that money away, instead of spending it the instant you got it on frivolous bullshit, has the right mind for business."

Their father looked at him, suddenly. Really looked at him. In that one look Forrest felt like he could see into the very core of his father and knew his father could see inside him right back. Papa sighed, "Forrest, son, you ain't gonna be happy working a farm for the rest of your life. You're too smart for that. You're too…you got too much going for you, son, to be stuck on a farm."

"Daddy, you ain't stupid," said Howard as he finished hammering the last piece of replacement roofing.

"I know I'm not, and you aren't either, Howard," murmured Papa. "But that's just the thing. Forrest, me and your brother might be smart. But this kind of life is what we are meant to have. This intense, hard, laborious life is what will satisfy us. We'd be restless and miserable without it."

Forrest glanced at Howard, half-expecting his brother to be insulted, but there was an honest acceptance on Howard's face. He reckoned Howard had come to terms with the fate of his life long ago.

Papa continued, "Forrest, you'll never be happy with this kind of life. You won't. Buy the restaurant. Start that new life you've been itching for and take that girl with you, damn it."

His father and brother stared at him, their eyes nearly boring a whole in his chest, until he nodded, "Alright, yes, sir. I'll…I'll think about it."

It wasn't the answer their father was looking for but it seemed to placate him for the moment. He returned Forrest's nod and disappeared down the ladder. Forrest plopped down on the roof, resting his head against the cool metal. He expected Howard to lumber down after their father, but instead, he remained at Forrest's side. A silence fell over them, allowing a few quiet moments to pass before Howard cleared his throat. "He just wants the best for you, is all. He's right and you know it. You won't be happy owning a farm and doing this same shit every day for forever."

"And you will?"

Howard sniffed against the cool January air. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold but rivulets of sweat ran down his face from the heavy lifting and the long hours on the barn's roof. His gaze wandered out of the rolling acres of their family farm, passed the mountains, to the horizon. To where he suspected the ocean might be. "I might not have been…you know, before." Before the war. "But things are different now. I'm different. This life might not be so bad for me."

Forrest sat up a bit, scrubbing his face with his hands. "I'm no different than you or Papa. No different, no better."

"Shit, little brother, I know you ain't better than me." Howard gave a wolfish grin. "Ain't many that are."

Howard's eye brightened abruptly and his lips spread into a secretive grin. "Hey, Forrest…what would you say our biggest problem is running the mule?"

Though the question seemed a bit irrelevant to previous conversation, Forrest gave a lazy, single shoulder shrug. "The law."

"But not our law, not here," egged Howard.

"Well, yeah. Outside law enforcement. The FBI, ATU, sheriffs from other counties."

"Other counties," beamed Howard. "Wouldn't our business run a whole lot smoother if we didn't have to make runs to other counties?"

Forrest's eyes narrowed. Ruling out runs through other counties would cut their profits by more than half. Sensing his brother's confusion, Howard's grin spread a degree wider and he explained, "Wouldn't it be easier if we, say, had somewhere to run the shine out of? Some place where we could bring the mule to have it picked up by folks in other counties?"

"You want a drop off point instead of running the liquor directly to the buyer…" mumbled Forrest.

"Exactly. Somewhere we can push the shine without having to make runs out of Franklin. Somewhere ideally close to the county line."

Like a flare gun, the light came on in Forrest head and he immediately swung at his brother, roof tops be damned. His punch caught Howard in the shoulder and his brother skidded down the roofing a bit. "Ow, alright. It's was just a suggestion! Damn, you gone knock me off the roof."

"You're a big man. It ain't that much of a fall for you," snapped Forrest. Was he fucking stupid? You can't run a restaurant as a front for an illegal booze business. That was like asking for trouble. It was like asking for a beating. "No, Howard. No."

"Look, just think about it, alright? Like you told Papa."

Forrest had only said he'd think about it to appease his father. He had no intention whatsoever of purchasing and running that restaurant. Especially not for no white lightning business. But his big brother was giving him such a big, dopey grin, that it was all Forrest could do but chuckle and hang his head in disbelief. Howard was somethin' else alright.

"Say, you know that Ringling Brothers carnival was up in Roanoke this week. Heard it leaves out for Charlottesville tomorrow morning. Think Ellie May's ever been to see the carnival?" asked Howard, with a knowing smile as he slid toward the ladder. "Just think about it, Forrest."

Forrest watched his brother disappear down the side of the barn and was struck with that realization that Howard was much more aware than anyone gave him credit for. Even himself.

He remained on the roof for a handful of moments, watching the cotton candy clouds roll across the baby blue sky as the sun began its gradual descent back toward the Earth. He thought about The County Line and both his father and brother's suggestions. He thought about Ellie May and the future he so desperately wanted to provide for her, wanted to give her. He wanted to give that woman every damn thing a man was capable and more. But how? And when?

When he eventually brought himself to clamber off the barn and head back inside, the house was bursting with the fresh scent of hot, fried steak. And was that gravy? He crossed to Ellie May at the stove, patting Emmy on the head as he passed her at the table where she sat chopping something or another. He brought a hand to Ellie May's waist, leaning over to sniff the boiling pot of gravy. "Smells good," he confessed and his chest tightened at the way she smiled up at him. "Can you pack some to go? I'd like to take you somewhere tonight."

"Tonight?" she repeated, her eyes abruptly flashing with excitement. "Sure."

They left just after dusk, following the winding mountains north to Roanoke. They drove with the windows down, Ellie May bundled in her favorite sweater, the few loose wisps of her hair whipping in the wind. The radio flowed lightly through the car, competing with the wind, and Ellie May tapped her foot in the floorboard like always. At some point along the ride, Forrest reached across the seat and wrapped his large paw of a hand around hers. It never failed to strike him, how small her fingers felt beneath his.

"Where are we going? To get more fireflies?" grinned Ellie May. "If so, I left my jar at home."

The Bondurant boy tossed her a smile over the steering wheel. "No fireflies this time."

"So where then?" she prodded animatedly, firmly squeezing his hand. "Come on. Out with it!"

He shook his head adamantly. "I'm not sayin' a word."

"And just why not?"

"Cause everybody needs a good surprise now and again," he replied vaguely.

Ellie May was growing more anxious by the minute but Forrest seemed steadfast in his want to genuinely surprise her. So, she snuggled back against the seat, enjoying the feel of the wind on her face, and held his hand in her lap, drawing little patterns on the back of his palm as they drove over the dark, dusty backroads of Virginia. She lost track of time and soon the world around her was pitch black, the only light coming from the front of the truck. As the night air began to chill, she rolled up her window and slide closer on the bench seat to Forrest. He placed his arm around her shoulders and drew her into him, one hand still loosely gripping the wheel.

"Do you remember the first time you drove me home? From the hospital?"

Forrest glanced down at her, nodding, before fixing his gaze back on the road. Ellie May grinned, "You were so serious. So tense. I thought you were going to have a seizure or something you looked like you were in so much pain. But I guess now it was just nerves…you were nervous and-"

"I was not nervous," he swiftly cut her off.

"Oh that's rich!" she gave a great, barking laugh. "You were too, and you know it!"

"No, I was not," he grumbled, fighting the instinct to grin back at her. "I was worried, s'all. About your ankle. It was broke, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," she said coyly. She poked him in the chest. "But I still say you were nervous. But, anyhow, you're much more relaxed now, if it's any consolation."

To this, Forrest had nothing to offer but a stiff grunt.

When they arrived at the train yard in Roanoke the place was nearly deserted. Only a night watchman was posted at the ticket booth, kerosene train lamps hanging from poles around the tracks every fifteen feet or so.

"Forrest, what are we doing here?" asked Ellie May softly as he pulled the truck off the road and under a thicket of bushes. "I don't think we're supposed to be here."

He paused for a moment. "We probably aren't. Oh well, come on."

The walked along the edge of the tracks furthest from the watchman, their bodies stooped and angled, trying to keep out of sight. The tracks sat on beds of raised gravel and the sound of their crunchy footfalls was suddenly interrupted by a coyote howling in the distance. Ellie May tensed, eyes scanning the tree line, but Forrest merely stroked his thumb over her knuckles and tugged her along. The faraway coyote howled again and this time it was answered by a train whistle. Forrest knelt on the track, his hand enclosing around the iron fixture. He paused, the whistling of the train growing louder, then stood and pulled her along.

"Forrest, what if the train is coming on this track?"

"It ain't."

A massive engine exploded around the bend two tracks over and barreled past them, so huge and so close that they were slammed with a wall of wind. The train churned out rolling clouds of billowing smoke, a fat black rope of smoke that coiled over the cars behind it. Stunned, Ellie May watched, half shielded behind Forrest's massive frame, as half a dozen flat cars whooshed by, loaded with what looked like lumber, but she couldn't tell because the moon had gone behind a cloud. When the final car of the train passed, Forrest continued to tug her along and she followed in an amazed stupor. It was the first time she'd seen a train up close. And she reckoned that was as up close as a person could get.

They came to a docked train, the sides painted a faded red, the numbers on the cars chipped and hard to read. Forrest rubbed a hand against the side of the train, rapped his knuckles once, then nodded, "This should be it."

She followed him along the body of the locomotive until he came to a sudden stop. He eyed the padlock on the car's handle, fingers lightly tracing the chain. He scanned the space between the tracks, ignoring Ellie May's warnings, until he found a sturdy chuck of forgotten crossties. He brought the iron down on the padlock and was met with a satisfying _crunch_. The padlock fell to the ground, forgotten.

"Forrest! You can't just go breaking into trains! Have you lost your mind?" hissed Ellie May, her head whipping around the abandoned train yard for any sign of trouble.

"Come on," he grunted, heaving open the car door.

The smell hit them first. A foul stench much like that of cow manure. Then came the sounds. Several high pitched shrieks and shrills, all of various caliber. All of the breath in Ellie May flew out in a single gasp, "What in the world?"

Forrest climbed into the train car, and lifted her up behind him. They were standing amidst dozens of cages – cages containing monkeys. All kinds of monkeys! Large, hairy, orange monkeys. Tiny, brown, bald monkeys. Fat, ape like beasts. There were so many. And they were so loud!

"Forrest," his young companion beamed. "Forrest! How?"

"Traveling carnival," he explained. "They pass through Roanoke about once every five years. Momma took us once when we were real young. Before Jack or Emmy were born. Howard heard they were in town, figured you might like to take a look..."

She moved toward one of the cages containing the small monkeys. There were two, equal in size and cuteness, but one seemed much older and it hung from the top of the cage in the corner, it's little monkey fist tight around the cage's bars. The other, younger monkey, also hung from the top but swung down as she approached and crawled across the cage's bottom.

"Do you think it's alright to…?" she asked, reaching toward the cage. The monkey scaled up the cage toward her, pressing its face to the bars and reaching out.

Forrest eyed the small creature. What harm could that tiny thing do? "Just don't let it bite you."

Ellie May thought she might cry when she felt the tiny, monkey fingers close around her hand. They were so soft, and almost furry, like a dog or a cat. "Forrest," she smiled softly. "They're so precious. Oh, look at him!"

They went from car to car on the train and found every animal you can imagine. Besides the monkeys, the carnival employed a handful bears, camels, zebras, llamas, two giraffes, an elephant, and nearly two dozen horses. But there was still one car left to explore.

Forrest hoped on the flat car, having slung the door open, and extended a hand to Ellie May. He lifted her to him with ease and as she placed her feet on the bottom of the rail car, her eyes widened at the great beasts she saw behind Forrest. "Oh, my."

There were only two cages in the final car; in one there lay a sleeping pair of lions, and in the other, a tiger and a panther. All four cats were massive. Very impressively sized things. At the sound of Forrest and Ellie May's intrusion, the tiger lifted its head, sniffing, its whiskers twitching.

Ellie May felt Forrest's hands on her waist, felt him pull her back into his chest as the tiger rose to its feet, six hundred glorious pounds of sleek black, orange, and white. His head was huge, his whiskers long, as he came toward them slowly, precisely. He looped around by the cage door, walked away, then stalked back with a low growl.

"Ellie," murmured Forrest, tugging her toward the open car door. But her feet were planted firmly, her eyes wide with a childlike enjoyment, "He's beautiful, Forrest. Damn. Look at them. They're fantastic. All of them."

"Ellie-"

The tiger's growl had awoken the others. The lions stretched lazily against the cage, the panther failing to move but watching the pair of human's with a thoughtful gaze, seemingly unbothered by the pacing tiger. One of the lions, the smaller one, yawned and Ellie May took a step toward the lions' cage, her hand coming to her mouth. "Aww, look, Forrest! Look, he's yawning. How adorable. Oh, where are his teeth? The poor baby doesn't have any teeth. Don't they take care of them?"

"Ellie May," he warned. He didn't like how close she was getting to the cages. With the llamas and monkeys it was different. These were jungle cats, massive lions and tigers, beasts of the animal kingdom.

"Oh, Forrest, he's harmless. He hasn't even got any teeth."

"No," he mumbled. "But he's about four hundred pounds and has claws. Now, come on."

Ellie May pursed her lips at him, tossed one last fleeting look at the lions, tiger, and panther, before conceding and drawing to Forrest's side. "Well, alright. I suppose I've had enough fun for one night."

"That really was something, Forrest," she told him as they snuck along the tracks. "I really mean it. That was…that was amazing. I'll never see anything in my life like it ever again."

Forrest was glad she'd enjoyed it. He'd enjoyed it, too. The animals had been nice. Some had even been funny. But he'd really thrived at the absolute look of joy her face as she observed and petted the carnival's menagerie.

When they reached the truck, he pulled her against the hood and kissed her in the moonlight. He wanted to memorize every part of her, more so than he already had. He wanted to always know the delicate feel of her skin, the gentle caress of her lips, the familiar tickle of her breath as she breathed against him. He wanted her. Wanted her like he'd never wanted anything in his life.

She whimpered against his lips, a sexy, pitiful little sound, that made him grin like a madman as he lifted her against the truck. He continued to claim her mouth, her body safely trapped between him and the hood of the truck, professing over and over again, "I love you." He felt her knees dig into his hips, felt her hands on his chest and shoulders, felt the loose tendrils of her hair brush his face. She was everywhere, all around him, and yet he couldn't get enough.

"Forrest," she mewled against him, nipping at his bottom lip. Her fingers stroked the hair at the nape of his neck as his crept up her cold thighs. His hand rounded the back of her leg, tugged her forward, closer. He needed more. He legs wrapped around him, feet crossing at the ankles, and as he pushed her skirt up, he felt her shiver at the cold. Drawing his lips to the side of her neck, he showered kisses along her jaw and collar bone, stroking and rubbing her legs for warmth.

Her cheek pressed to the top of his head. Ellie May curled her fingers around him, cradling him to her as he trailed kisses down her chest, lips pressing through her top. She could feel the heat from his mouth through her clothing, feel the teasing warmth of his lips. She wondered if he could feel her heart hammering in her chest. If he knew that she was ready to explode with joy. Capturing his face, she brought her lips to his and kissed him soundly, yet with an air of gentleness. She loved the taste of him; his kisses always held the faintest traces of tea and honey. She loved the way he always smelled of corn, dirt, and sweat. She loved the way he burned hot under her touch, warming every part of her.

"Damn it, Ellie," he groaned against her mouth, his chest heaving greatly. Licking his lips, he rested his forehead on hers, cupping her face, and just smiled. Ellie May mirrored his expression, her fingers stroking the short stubble along his chin and jaw, murmuring, "I have to say, this night just keeps getting better and better."

A low chuckle rumbled deep inside Forrest and he pressed another kissed to her lips. "Can I ask you a question?"

Ellie May blinked up at him. A small, sincere smile spread across her lips. She whispered, "Anything."

Forrest grinned, "You ever thought about cooking for other folks? You know, like at a restaurant?"

* * *

**Thoughts? **


	19. Chapter 19

**Guys! I need a favor! **

**Okay, people of the internet, don't hate me, but I just saw **the Avengers** movie for the first time yesterday. I know! I don't know why it's taken me so long to see it but I finally have and I love it! So I decided to try and write a Clint Barton/OC story**. Here's the favor: go check it out!** If you guys are fans of **the Avengers** movie, I would greatly appreciate it if you'd give the story a chance. It's really humorous but definitely a romance (for those of you who love the fluff) and it features all of the Avengers but will focus on Clint. If you enjoy this little fic, maybe you'll like that story, too! And I promise not to let that story distract me from this one. **

**The Clint/OC story is called **HomeMovies** and you can find it on my profile page. But you knew that, didn't you? **

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

She wasn't sure how they'd gotten roped into coming tonight. She didn't know who any of these people were or what the gathering was even for. All she knew was that her feet hurt and that the boys had to make a mule run to West Virginia in just six hours. Weaving her way through the boisterous crowd, Ellie May searched for Forrest among the sea of bodies. Where had he gotten off to? He must've been using the bathroom or something; it was very unlikely that he let her out of his sight, especially in public, so he must've gone somewhere she couldn't follow.

"Hey, there, little lady," someone suddenly slurred. The voice was definitely male and alarmingly close to her ear. Ellie May spun on her aching heels. She came face to face with a grotesquely filthy man whose teeth were so stained and cracked that she nearly flinched at the sight of him, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I wanna dance," he grinned, reaching for her wrist. She evaded his grip, backing up into the mass of people, "I don't think so."

He was drunk. As was just about everyone at the gathering. His breath was so foul with the heavy stench of mountain mule that she was surprised he could stand, much less form a coherent thought and put that thought into a sentence. "Ah, c'mon, just one dance. What, you married or somethin'?"

Her eyes narrowed. She hated drunken persistence. Why couldn't anyone just accept that no really meant 'no'? It didn't mean 'not now' or 'maybe later'. It meant 'no, now get lost.' She stepped away once again as the stranger reached for her, "Thank you, but no. I don't want to dance. Now, please leave me alone."

The man's lip curled. "Look now, I want you to dance with me. Come dance right now or I'm gone haf' to make ya."

"And just how you plan on doing that?" Ellie May glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see Forrest, but was met with the sight of his impressively gigantic older brother. A simple sigh of relief left her lips. Very seldom did people have a problem accepting the word no from Howard Bondurant. Howard eyed the stranger over Ellie May's head. His jaw was tight, his eyes slightly narrowed, and when he spoke, his voice was low yet somehow clear above the ruckus of the party, "The lady said no, now piss off."

"I just wanted a dance…" grumbled the man as he glared back and forth between the two of them before stumbling into the crowd and disappearing.

"Thank you, Howard."

"Don't mention it." The older man sighed, running his hand through his curly hair. He eyed her. "You had about enough of this thing?"

"Only a lot."

He nodded. "Yeah, me too. Whatta you say we find Forrest and beat it?"

"I'd say that sounds like a plan."

His hand came to rest on her lower back and he led her through the crowd. When they burst from the front door, Ellie May took a deep breath, her lungs filling with the crisp night air. The house had been so cramped and there had been so much cigarette smoke that she'd found it difficult to breathe. Honestly, this was the last time she was coming to one of these things. Howard gently nudged her elbow, "Why don't you go wait by the car? I'll find Forrest."

"Okay," she replied. She watched him retreat towards the barn before slipping toward the row of vehicles lining the drive. When she made it to their truck, she knelt and undid the buckles on her shoes. Slipping the shoes from her feet, she nearly exploded with joy. Her feet were so sore. Popping open the door of the truck, she tossed her shoes into the floor board and turned to slide inside when she felt a rough hand on her waist.

"Hey, there, where's your boyfriend?"

Ellie May nearly screamed. She turned slowly to face the same persistent stranger. Clenching her teeth, she growled, "You really want that dance, huh?"

The man's eyes twinkled in the darkness. "Gotta say I do."

"Well, too bad," she snapped, shoving him off of her. "I said no before and I meant it. Now, get lost!"

"Them are strong words for such a little girl. I don't see your tall friend anywhere around…where'd he get off to? Aw, hell, guess that don't really matter." The man gave a crooked smile. "All that matters is that we're alone."

They were hardly alone. There were at least three couples spread across various vehicles in the drive and a group of no less than ten people loitering by the front of the house. She sneered at the stranger, a dull anger brewing in the pit of her stomach, "Yeah, we're so alone. Tell me, what've you got planned?"

The man swept his eyes up and down her body unabashedly. Ellie May snorted, "That's what I thought. Look, do yourself a favor and go on. I bet you don't want any trouble and I don't either. So leave me alone and we can all go home happy."

"You've got to be shitting me," growled Howard as he and Forrest suddenly rounded the barn. "Ain't I already told you to piss off, you little fucker?"

Ellie May saw the stranger's eyes widened as he turned to face the approaching Bondurant brothers. She sighed, "I told you, you should've just left me alone."

"Alright, fine," he grumbled, staggering back a hair. "I'll go on."

"Oh, no you don't," corrected Howard lunging forward to seize the man by the collar. "You only get one warning."

Forrest's hand was abruptly on her side. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Honest." She assured him. "Forrest, I just want to go home."

Forrest nodded once. He motioned for her to hop up into the truck and she did so, vaguely aware of Howard dragging the man behind the house. Her lips pursed, "What'll y'all do to him?"

"You know what he wanted to do to you, Ellie. We're gonna make sure he don't try doin' that to any other woman ever again."

Her chest squeezed. "Just hurry back, please."

Forrest placed a kiss to her temple. "Lock the doors," he murmured, shutting the truck door, effectively locking her in. She did as he instructed and waiting for them to return.

* * *

On the February the twenty-third of that year Forrest signed the lease to The County Line. He was taking his father's advice and starting that life he so desperately wanted. He had to admit he was a little excited. It was a strange thing, owning his own business. Everyone he knew was proud of him, though Ellie May had a few concerns regarding the whole thing.

"You think the grown men that work there are going to be fine with some nineteen-year-old coming in and running things?" she'd asked.

To that all Forrest could respond with was, "They don't got to stay."

And some didn't; but mostly the staff remained the same. There was their neighbor, Jefferson Deshazo. He was a dishwasher in the kitchen. Jefferson was around the same age as Forrest but had worked The County Line since he was twelve. Then there was Hal Childress, an older gentleman, who worked the counter, serving drinks and running the cash register. Abigail Cornith, a single mother of three whose husband died in the war, was the restaurant's only waitress and worked every single day of the week from open to close. And finally, Everett Dillon, another young man who had helped the former cook run the kitchen.

Since the cook had decided to leave, Forrest reckoned his father's plan for him was working out perfectly. He would own and operate The County Line, and Ellie May would be the main cook and run the kitchen. When he'd ask if she'd do him that favor, her eyes narrowed, "And just when do you think I have time to play cook for a restaurant full of people, Forrest? In case you hadn't noticed, I kinda do a lot around here. There's the entire family's laundry. Schoolin' the children. All the housework. And not to mention all the damn cooking _here_."

"It's a bit slower during the day. The counterman can manage the stove, then. I'd just need you to help me around the dinner rush, is all. Papa and Howard, the kids, they'll understand. You can change, do the kids' schooling to the morning. Besides, they're getting old enough now to do most of the work on their own."

"And who is to make supper for the family if I'm at The County Line cooking supper for a bunch of other folks?"

"You know, I used to dabble in the kitchen once upon a time," murmured Papa from his chair by the window. He nibbled on the end of his tobacco pipe. "Yep, reckon it might be nice to try and sharpen up my skills again. Emmy, you'll help your ole paw out, won't you, sweetheart?"

"Sure, Papa," murmured the young girl with a smile.

"Well, there you go, Ellie May," Papa beamed. "Looks like we got everything squared away. Don't you worry about us."

"This was a trap," Ellie May told Forrest later that evening. The rest of their family already retired for the night, they were alone by the stove in the family room, curled up on the couch like they'd done a thousand times before. "You and your father set this whole thing up, didn't you?"

Forrest snorted, "I ain't takin' any of the credit. This is all him."

Ellie May traced a path between the buttons on Forrest's shirt. "Why you figure he wants you to own that place so bad?"

Forrest ran his fingers through her hair, twirling the thin strands and watching them fall through his fingers. "I think," he mused quietly. "He just wants me to have something for myself. And for you."

"For me?"

He looked at her softly. "Something for us to have together."

It was a strange yet sweet notion, to think that he'd inadvertently bought The County Line for her. She nuzzled his neck, "I didn't need anything else, Forrest. I was happy with what we have already."

He gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "I know." But that didn't mean he'd ever stop wanting to give her the world.

Forrest continued to fiddle with her hair, twisting and tugging and twirling the dark strands, until he felt her breathing even against him. He grinned down at her. This was his favorite way to bring any day to an end, her falling asleep in his arms. It was a feeling he didn't think he'd ever get used to.

* * *

The first few months of operation at The County Line were more stressful than anyone had anticipated. Forrest stayed on edge and Ellie May was getting even less sleep than the few puny hours she was accustomed to. Because those first days were shaky, the restaurant wasn't churning out enough profit to keep running so Forrest was forced to continue pushing shine with his brother to keep the place afloat and free from any debt.

One week the men decided to make a last minute run to Blacksburg, a small town a little further north in Montgomery County. They hadn't anticipated much trouble – the sheriffs in the Montgomery area were well known for their blatant stupidity. They'd loaded up two vehicles, lugging crate after crate of mason jars down the mountain until each truck was full of mule, the suspension on the vehicles hanging low from the sheer weight. Howard would drive one truck, Danny sitting shotgun. And Tom Cundiff would drive the other and be accompanied by Forrest. Gummy Coleman was staying behind to watch the still, a fresh batch already brewing in the mash boxes.

It was supposed to be a simple run.

Only problem was, once they got to Blacksburg free and clear, the buyers they had lined up decided they didn't want to pay.

"I hate to think we just wasted all that time and gas driving out here, but a man's entitled to change his mind, I suppose," said Danny cheerfully. He clapped Howard's shoulder. "Alright, fellas, let's load 'em back up."

"Well, hold up, now," one of the buyers rumbled, stepping forward. The man's name was Curt Ford and, though he was no Howard, he was not a man of meager size or stature. He loomed at least a head over Danny, "Y'all ain't takin' that nowhere."

"So you've decided to buy it after all. That's just great. We're real happy to oblige our customers," said Danny, grinning that oddly perfect grin of his.

"Who the fuck said anything about buying?" one of Ford's men barked.

Forrest surveyed the ragtag gang of men before them. There were six in all, but judging by their build only two would be physically capable of giving them a hard time. He quickly divided the fighting in his head. Danny would take Ford as they were both acting spokepersons for their causes. Tom would go for the two on the left, he would take the two on the right, and that would leave the larger man in the middle for Howard. After Danny dropped Ford, he'd help Tom, while Forrest and Howard managed their three between them. The fight would not be quick but nor would it be dangerous. It would merely be a waste of time and energy and an absolute failure of a sale. They would all go home hungry and tired, their pockets just as empty as they were when they left Franklin.

"You don't have to do this," injected Forrest above the low rumble of chatter that had formed.

Ford cut him a hard look. "Don't we? I know who you are and if you think we're intimidated-"

"And just who are we?" thundered Howard, towering over the other man. To his credit, Ford didn't cower under Howard's stare but merely gave a wry smile, "You're those Bondurants, aren't cha?"

Forrest felt the muscles in his back tense, felt a sudden stiffness in his shoulders. How the fuck would somebody in Montgomery County know who they were? There was such a thing called word of mouth, but he'd never heard of whispered words traveling that far.

"Yeah," grumbled Howard. "We are those Bondurants and if you knew anything about us you'd know that we aren't gonna fucking roll over and let you take our load, you sorry sack of shit. You're the one who came to us. You needed mule and we supplied it. We upheld our end of the bargain. If you wanna chicken shit out, that's fine but when we leave we're taking our product with us."

The larger man from Ford's ragtag gang stepped forward. "No, you ain't."

And just like that the fight began. Someone lunged at him and Forrest managed to catch him just in time. He threw the man to the side, disregarding him like the trash he was, as a second man swung and clopped him in the ear. His blood and pulse thudded in his ear as he turned and began throwing fist after fist in the newcomer's face. Out the corner of his eye he saw his first offender rising to his feet and preparing to charge. Forrest sidestepped his attack causing him to tackle his ally instead. Forrest took that moment to slip his hands in his pocket and seize the brass knuckles he carried for Ellie May.

The heavy metal weight felt strangely familiar on his fingers and offered a definite comfort in the hectic situation.

The first hit with the knuckles Forrest landed across the bone of the man's nose, right between his eyes; then he spun and dealt the same devastating blow to the other man. Both strikes were met with the same satisfying crunch, the same glorious gush of blood. But he didn't stop there. He threw hit after hit until the muscles in his arms and shoulders burned, until his eyes stung from the sweat dripping down his brow, until he was sure they wouldn't move or even breathe too hard after the hell he'd dealt them. Because Forrest knew that in a fight, you gotta hit first, hit with everything you've got. Then keep hitting until your opponent is down, and then you hit some _more_. 'Cause while many men like the idea of fighting, very few like getting hit. You can make a man wanna quit fightin' real quick with that first shot – a good straight left into the nose bone and most will let it be.

Forrest knew in a fight it was the man who _liked_ to get hit that you had to watch out for.

He looked down at the fine spray of blood covering his hands and arms. A small frown twitched his lips downward. Those stains were never coming out of his shirt. The side of his face felt sticky and hot and he tentatively reached up, feeling for the source of the blood. His ear had been split. This, too, brought a frown. He knew Ellie May would worry over that single cut on his ear for weeks.

He faced his brother and their friends. Danny's usually white teeth were spattered with red, his perfect, pink gums busted clear open and flowing crimson. His brother's best friend eyed Forrest, giving a subtle nod of the head before turning and fetching his hat from the ground. Howard stood stock-still, lumbering over his fallen attacker with a small grin on his lips, his eyes bloodshot with adrenaline. Tom was leaning against the hood of their truck, clutching his left hand with a pained expression.

"It broke?" asked Forrest.

A low growl brewed in the back of Cundiff's throat. "I fucking hope not. That'd be the last thing I need."

Howard sighed contentedly, kicking his boot carelessly into the face of the man unconscious at his feet. "C'mon, y'all. Let's go home."

And go home they did, with their entire load in stock, but not before Danny and Tom searched the bodies of Ford and his men and took every penny from their pocket. Danny had held up a wadded clump of bills. He gave a bloodied, wry smile. "For our troubles."

Forrest woke sometime that night with a murderous headache on one side of his head. He fingered the split lobe caked with dried blood and crust. He swung his legs off the rope bed, Jack stirring slightly behind him. His feet hit the floor heavily and he hung his head between his knees. He paused for a moment, letting the blood flow to his long limbs, before clambering off to the kitchen. He fetched a dish rag, wetted the end, and cleaned his face. Grabbing some butter from the cooler, he lathered the cut with the makeshift solution and wiped his hands clean. He debated on returning to bed for a moment before slipping silently over to the room Ellie May shared with his little sister.

He turned the knob completely before pushing the door open just a hair. Their bed had been pushed flush against the wall and Ellie May would sleep on the edge, saving Emmy from falling off when she'd been younger. Now that Emmy was older, the girls had found comfort in their tradition and left the bed where it was. Ellie May was curled on her side, her back to him, shielding Emmy from his sight. Her dark hair spilled across her pillow. The blankets were pulled to her waist, the patterned quilts bright against the muted white of her nightgown.

He wanted to go to her, to wake her and take her in his arms. He wanted to kiss her again like he had that night at the train yard; wanted to feel her breath hitch in pleasure because of _him_. He wanted her to know love like no other had before. He wanted to feel her smooth skin beneath his rough palms, feel her quake beneath his lips. But he hated to disturb her while she slept so peacefully, so he turned, his hand falling from the doorframe, and pulled the door softly behind him.

There would be time for sweet kisses and gentle caresses later. For now, he would let her sleep.

* * *

**I thought if I treated you all to an update so soon you'd do me that favor and go check out **Home Movies**! **

**As always, my dear friends, I hope you liked this one. This definitely has more action than we've seen previously and it's going to have a hand in developing Forrest into the powerful man he becomes. **

**You know your thoughts are appreciated so review! Cause that makes me really happy. **

**p.s. HAPPY NEW YEAR!**


	20. Chapter 20

**This chapter feels a little funny, and for that I'm sorry. I'm not quite sure what's wrong with it. It just feels a little off. But hopefully you won't notice.**

**As always, my friends, enjoy. Also, be sure to see the author's note at the end.**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

The air was crisp that morning and the sky was dark, a low, messy haze of clouds looming over The County Line. Forrest's hands ached from the bitter cold and he felt for sure that his nose would be turning red right about then. Snow crunched under his feet as he climbed from his truck, an old pine-green Ford he'd bought from a friend of his father's with some of his profits from the still. Approaching the restaurant, Forrest saw the broken glass before he realized that the door was cracked open.

Hal Childress, who had arrived early as usual to help Forrest open the place, froze behind him. The older man removed his hat and muttered with a frown, "Well, that don't look good."

"Stay here," grunted Forrest.

Hal eyed the Bondurant before him. "Now, I mean no disrespect…you might be my boss but you're still just a kid. How 'bout we go in together?"

Forrest said nothing but moved slowly up the front steps. He didn't object when Hal followed.

The front window of The County Line had been shattered, jagged pieces of glass jutting from the now empty wooden frame. Forrest carefully avoided the chunks of broken glass on the porch as he nudged open the already ajar door with the toe of his boot. The weight of the brass knuckles in his pocket suddenly intensified and he subconsciously slipped his fingers into the weapon's tight grips.

Together the pair moved through the restaurant quickly and came to the conclusion that they were alone. Slightly more at ease, they inspected the damage that had been done. The floor of the restaurant remained virtually untouched – the tables were in place, chairs turned upright – but the cash register lay upside down on the floor behind the bar and the storage room off of the kitchen had been destroyed.

"How much did they take?" asked Forrest lowly. He stood stock-still in the middle of The County Line, his shoulders rigid, his face tight.

Hal replied as he put the register right. "They didn't touch the money. Prolly couldn't figure out how to open the register. But they took most of the meat from the cooler and all the canned goods."

The Bondurant boy nodded, swallowing thickly. "Alright. Let's get her cleaned up."

Just shy of four months had passed since Forrest took control of The County Line and until that morning those months had passed by peacefully and without incident. As they cleared out the broken shelves from the store room, Forrest pondered his next course of action. He knew there was little to be done, unless he was able to find out who had broken in and robbed them. Nonetheless, he knew he couldn't let it happen again.

They lugged the broken shelving out behind the restaurant to the burn pile where they sometimes smoked the meat. As the last of the rubble was tossed onto the pile, Forrest shifted his weight, watching as Hal lit his cigar. "I'd appreciate it," said Forrest. "If you didn't mention this to anyone."

Though he was a tad curious as to Forrest's intentions, Hal conceded, "Ain't my business to tell."

When Ellie May arrived around midday, Forrest dreaded the conversation he knew would shortly follow. He could hear her kind voice as she said her good mornings to Hal and a few of their regular customers who were already holed up at the bar; he could hear the slight click of her shoes as she slipped into the kitchen, the swinging door flying shut behind her. She paused at the mouth of the kitchen and Forrest turned in his chair when she approached his office. "Hey, Forrest...where're Everett and Jefferson?"

"Sent 'em home."

"You what? What'd ya do that for?"

"Ain't gonna be any dishes to wash today. 'Cept a few glasses. Figure Hal could handle that."

A crease formed in her brow. Ellie May crossed her arms and propped against the door frame, peering down her nose at him, "And why is that?"

"The kitchen's shut down today."

"Oh?" she scoffed. Ellie May watched the muscles in Forrest's jaw twitch. That's when she noticed the stiffness in his frame. Something had happened. Her stomach turned sour as she softened the edge in her words, "Forrest, what is it?"

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed angrily, leaning back in his chair. "Somebody broke in. Took all the food."

"Oh my," gasped Ellie May, hand rising to cover her mouth. "And the money?"

"Didn't touch it. Couldn't get the register open."

"How'd they get in?"

"Front window. Busted it clear open."

Ellie May frowned. So that's why they'd moved the open sign. Placing her things on his desk, she glided across the wooden floor to stand behind Forrest, resting her hands on his shoulders. She slowly massaged the tense muscles and muttered, "I'm so sorry, Forrest…at least no one was hurt."

'No, no one was hurt, but someone will be.' Forrest thouhgt, though he refrained from speaking it aloud. He knew his words only trouble her and there wasn't any use in that; he would handle things just fine. As her fingers tenderly dug into his back and shoulders, he reached up and covered one of her hands with his own, giving an affectionate squeeze. "Howard's bringing me a cot and some clothes later. It looks like I'll be sleeping here for a while," he told her.

Her hands ceased all movement. "Now, Forre-"

"Ain't no sense in arguing, Ellie. This is my decision. I can't let this happen again. You know how much money we put into that food? How much we lost when they took it? Now, I can't do anything about what's been taken. It's gone and there's nothing to be done about it. But they'll be back, you can count on that, and I'll be waiting for 'em."

Sighing, Ellie May drew away. She leaned against the door, looking out at the vacant kitchen. She knew he was right on one account – there was no use in arguing with a man like Forrest. After chewing her lip for a moment, she spoke, "Fine. Stay here. But Howard's staying with you."

"Howa-"

"Either he's staying with you or I am. Your pick, Forrest."

Gritting his teeth, Forrest licked his lips and muttered, "I already told you, Ellie, you don't have to worry about me."

"The hell I don't, Forrest. I don't know if you've noticed but you and your brother have a tendency to attract trouble."

His brow furrowed in a peculiar way that Ellie May found kind of adorable. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the arm rests. "What you mean by that?"

Ellie May gave a slight giggle. "Oh, I don't know…Clarence Cardinal and Joe Fensky, Curt Ford and his gang from Blacksburg, the Shively brothers, and let's not forget that little mess with Clyde Eller a while back..."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't…uh…that was, um…" Forrest frowned. "Those weren't because we…"

Rolling her eyes, Ellie May snickered, "Uh, huh. Whatever you say, Forrest."

Sometime later, Howard stumbled up the front steps of The County Line. It was after eight o'clock and he looked exhausted, having just spent four days alone at the still. They were preparing for a major run, taking the load of white lightning all the way to Cincinnati, Ohio. It was nearly a day's drive for both parties, as the buyers were coming in from northern Indiana, and the men weren't looking forward to the trip in the slightest. Hell, the only reason they'd agreed to the sale in the first place was because the buyers were distant relatives of Gummy Coleman's. Or so he'd claimed.

Lumbering through the restaurant, the eldest Bondurant lingered by a rowdy card game in the corner. The half-drunk men slapped stacks of bills and coins onto the table top, their drinks sloshing in their shaky hands. They were slinging pitiful slurs at one another and flashing their cards this way and that, plumes of smoke mushrooming over the table from their cigars.

"Don't even think about it, Howard," murmured Ellie May as she emerged from the kitchen. Leaning over the bar, she pursed her lips in his direction, "You are stone-cold sober. You'd hustle those men out of every penny they have in less than a minute."

"That's kinda the point," he grunted. Nonetheless, he forced himself to walk passed the group, vaguely aware that Ellie May was still speaking to him, "I swear, Howard, sometimes you make me want to-"

Howard swiftly cut off the beginning of, what he was sure would've been, another one of Ellie May's condescending rants. "Yeah, that's real fascinating and all. Where's Forrest?"

Eyes narrowing into slits, Ellie May hiked a thumb over her shoulder, "In his office."

He joined his little brother, tossing the bundled up cot in the corner and plopping down into an empty chair. Howard rubbed his hands over his face furiously as if to scrub away the long day. His head lulled to the side and he saw Ellie May through the window above the stove that looked out into the restaurant. She was emptying the ashtrays from the tables and replacing salt and pepper shakers. Howard frowned, "All the women in the world and you gotta pick that one…don't get me wrong, I like her well enough I guess but, damn, if she ain't annoying as shit sometimes."

Forrest rose an eyebrow in his brother's direction. "And you're just a regular ray of sunshine."

"Piss off, little brother." There came a tired lapse of silence and Howard called at Ellie May to bring him a beer, barely remembering to tack a _please_ onto the end of his request. As she fetched him a drink, Howard kicked Forrest's chair, "How long you plannin' on stayin' up here?"

"Long as it takes," grumbled Forrest as he poured over his notebooks. "Ellie May thinks you're gone stay here with me. See to it that she doesn't learn otherwise."

"You need me to stay?"

Forrest dropped his pencil and sighed. He glanced at the cabinet in the corner where his long barreled .38 was safely tucked away. "No. I'll handle it. You just make sure she thinks you're here."

"Yeah, alright."

A moment later Ellie May begrudgingly brought Howard a glass of water, muttering something about a beer doing him no good, and instead placed the beer on Forrest's desk. She smiled at him sadly, "Figured you could use it more than he could."

* * *

Forrest spent two weeks sleeping on his cot on the floor of the storage room between stacks of canned beans and potatoes. It was a highly unpleasant arrangement and by the sixteenth day he began to question his decision. The floor was hard and uncomfortable despite the cot's best efforts; when he woke in the mornings his body ached, his bones cracking and popping as he scrambled off the floor. Forrest was used to not sleeping but he'd never woken up hurtin' before. Besides, the closest he'd come to catching the thieves was a baby possum he'd nearly shot on the fourth night.

"I'm done," he told his older brother the morning of the nineteenth day. "I ain't catching jack shit up here. I'm coming home."

For the first time since Forrest had taken over The County Line, Hal was late to work that same day. When he sped into the lot an hour and a half late, his brow was sweaty, the collar of his shirt soaked in perspiration, and there was a fat grin on his face. He swiped his hat off his head as he darted into the restaurant, "Hey, Forrest, sorry I'm late but, um…Caroline had the baby! A healthy little boy. Name's Samuel. He's beautiful, Forrest."

Forrest stood with a small smile to shake Hal's hand. "Congratulations. Caroline doin' okay?"

"Oh, yeah, you bet. She's a tough ole bird." Hal shook Howard's hand, too, though the older Bondurant was much quieter, offering a sad, sort of half-smile that looked more like a grimace. "Anyway, I'll go get the grill runnin'."

"Already taken care of…there's a pot of coffee on. Help yourself to a cup and then be on your way," replied Forrest politely.

There came a slight pause and Hal regarded the Bondurant with a pensive stare. Surely, thought Hal, he wasn't being fired for arriving late one day in four months. He might not know a lot of intimate details about his boss's life, but after months of working with the man, Hal had gotten a feel for the kind of person Forrest was. And he wasn't cruel or rash.

Hal shook his head, "I don't…"

Forrest held up a hand, motioning the door. "I'm serious, now. Go on. What were you thinking coming in today, anyhow? Can't believe you left your wife after what she's just been through. You go on home, Hal. Say hello to Caroline for me, tell her I said congratulations. I'll see you tomorrow."

A wave of relief floating over him, Hal shot his boss an appreciative smile, "Thanks, Forrest."

Grunting in response, Forrest gave a nod as Hal disappeared back the way he came. There was a slight tension in the air following his departure, a heaviness that would go unspoken. Forrest knew Howard was envious of Hal's good fortune. His brother wanted to give Lucy a baby so bad he couldn't stand it. The loss of their previous children was no small burden for Howard to bear, though he did so in silence. Swishing around the remnants of his coffee, Howard stood and stretched. "Well, best be getting back to the house…Ellie May's making French toast or somethin' for breakfast."

Forrest couldn't stop the envious glare that molded his features. "Y'all save me some. Bring it by later on your way to the still."

"I ain't goin' by the mountain but I'll send some with Ellie May when she comes," grumbled Howard. He tapped the counter, "Don't suppose you'd be willing to rethink our proposition about this place now that you've had time to get used to runnin' it."

Forrest gritted his teeth. "I done told you, Howard. I ain't pushin' mule through here."

"I'm just sayin', it's the perfect location. Right by the county line, folks be coming from all directions. No runs. No mess. No trouble. At the end of the month what you don't sell to travelers we can sell around town. Danny's already talked to some of our regular buyers. We got a lot of folks willing to follow us here."

"_Howard_."

"Alright, fine. Damn. If you're gone be such a woman about it…" Howard finished his coffee and slid the mug down the counter to his brother. Belching, he righted his hat and muttered, "See ya later, Forrest," before following after Hal through the front door.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully with a slow, but steady, stream of customers coming and going from the restaurant. With Hal out for the day, Forrest had Everett Dillon man the bar. Everett was a good kid, Forrest had decided, though he was scarcely two years younger than himself. He was smart, a real quick thinker, and he wasn't afraid to work hard. Everett stayed late in Hal's place, helping Forrest shut the place down. While Forrest tallied up the day's earnings at the register, Everett stacked the chairs on top of the tables so he could sweep the flooring, having already wiped down the table tops and bar.

Another thing Forrest welcomed about Everett – the boy didn't like small talk.

They worked silently, efficiently, and when they were through, Forrest invited Everett to stay for a drink. They gathered around the burn pile, the night sky alit with millions of little stars, passing a jar of mountain mule between them. Everett's father ran a still on Smith Mountain with Everett's uncles and as the familiar burn of the homemade liquor sizzled down his throat, Everett licked his lips. "Gotta say, it's better than the shit my paw cooks up."

Forrest nodded. "I usually keep a jar in the cabinet in my office. You can help yourself whenever, so long as you aren't drinking on the job."

Everett eyed Forrest like he was some sort of foreign specimen, like he was an alien presence on Earth. "You're really smart, you know that? You sure you're only nineteen?"

A smile ghosted over his lips. Once more, Forrest nodded and brought the jar to his lips. "Yeah, I'm sure."

That's when he heard it. Heard the familiar crunch off boots on snow, heard the nervous chatter of two muffled voices. Everett seemed to have heard it too, for he was abruptly sitting straight and alert. Forrest motioned for Everett to go in through the back; he would come around front and they would trap them inside. Slinking along the edge of the restaurant, the sound of breaking glass paralyzed Forrest, a foul anger seizing him. They'd just gotten that window replaced yesterday.

He trudged forward and tried to silence his heavy steps as he followed the pair of skinny men into The County Line. They were going straight for the kitchen, something akin to potatoes shack in their hands. He glanced at the office where he saw Everett crouched, the gun from the cabinet clutched firmly in his grasp. Baring his shoulders, Forrest shouted, "Alright, now, don't move! Turn around."

"W-which is it? Don't move or turn around?" asked a quiet, almost feminine voice. The men were shaking, their hands poised above their hands as Everett revealed himself, the gun strapped across his chest.

"Turn around," growled Forrest, the brass knuckles already on his hand.

They turned slowly, nearly bumping into one another, and Forrest felt his stomach tighten in nauseous surprise. The thieves were not the scruffy, dirty, shameful faces needing to be taught a lesson as he expected, but instead, they were hungry, cowering little girls. They blinked at him fearfully, their eyes wide and impressionable. He pointed at the office, "Everett, you wanna put that away?"

Everett said nothing but did as Forrest suggested, returning the gun to the cabinet.

"You got names?" Forrest attempted to ask in a gentle tone. He dropped the knuckles back into his pocket as the taller of the two girls tried to speak, "We…we don't mean any trouble. Please just…let us go."

Forrest nodded, "Yeah, alright, I'll let you go…you wanna eat first?"

The girl blinked. "Do we want to what?"

"Eat," Forrest repeated himself. "Way I see it, somebody only steals food when they're hungry…"

A fierce blush spread across the girl's face and crept down her neck. The other girl, most likely her younger sister or close friend, inched closer to her and whispered something in her ear. They stared indecisively at him for a moment and then, the older one nodded. "We can eat."

* * *

**A million and one thanks to everyone who is supporting this story. I honestly can't say it enough. I love you, guys, so much. It's because of you that this story is continued. Seriously. You guys are very demanding; but that's alright, I like it. **

**A lot of you have been asking about the ending and I'll say one thing, the same thing I've been saying: I'm not going to tell you how it ends because that's always the best part. The ending will be huge, ginormous, overwhelming, and will completely blow your mind. I'm not going to say what happens to Ellie or if she and Maggie have some major stand-off or if the ending is sad. You all will just have to wait and see. **

**But trust me, it's worth the wait…though, I guess I'm a little biased. **


	21. Chapter 21

**I don't know if you guys noticed but, um, this story has over 240 reviews. And I kinda want to marry you all. Thank you so much: **_Dasiygirl95, JohnnyStormsGirl, 26RH, Kay1104, countrystrong '89_, coronacowgirl, Amanda, Jocy723, Michael, Mel F, Jones, JazzyJane, IsYourH3artTaken, _KaicherAlfstan_, Priscilla2, carly, Joey, _Not. So. Typical. Girl., mzmayne6_, ConsistentlyRandom21, _Laura Page Turner_, gina, nicci1980, aeskubal, _Dawnie-7_, Morgan, dcsays, sarahandmaddie **and** all of the Guests! **I am beyond thrilled that you guys enjoy this story so much and take the time to share that. **

Dcsays **asked if I would tell how long it will be before the end. To be honest, I'm not quite sure. I know exactly what's going to happen and I'm guessing there's about fifteen to twenty parts left. That being said, I always write more than I expect so this story will probably see forty-five chapters before it's over. There's still quite a bit left. **

**I know the ending to that last chapter was a big surprise for most. Sorry to those who wanted to see some more action! Don't worry, though. There's plenty action left. Also, I know you guys missed the fluff between Forrest and Ellie, so there's a little bit of that going on in this one. As always, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Despite the older girl's initial skepticism, Forrest found it was easy to get their story out of her once he was pumping them full of ham and cheese omelets and grits. The starving girls ate quickly, with little, satisfied grins on their mouths, Forrest watching them out the corner of his eye as he sent Everett home. Apparently, the girls were from West Virginia and, as he had predicted, were sisters. Though she wouldn't say what exactly happened, the oldest stated that their parents were gone. Judging by the familiar, vacant stare in her eyes as she said it, Forrest could only assume their parents had died.

She went on to say that they were sent to a girls' home. "Wasn't so bad…actually, even with all the chores and stuff, it was sort'a nice, you know? All those other girls who knew what we were going through…it was like a never ending slumber party."

A crease in his brow, Forrest repeated her curiously, "Slumber party?"

"That's what Irene called it. I dunno know. She's from New York," the girl shrugged as she explained. Then, she continued, "But um…one day this little old lady came in and said she had daughter that was my age who had died and that she wanted to take me home. Just me."

The younger girl's fork paused halfway to her mouth. Her chin began to quiver, her eyes misting over. Slowly, she put her fork back on her plate and chewed her lip. Her sister reached over and patted her shoulder, urging her to finish eating. She looked at Forrest, her hand still comforting her sister, "Do you have any family, mister?"

Forrest replied quietly, "I do…I have two brothers, a sister, a father, and, uh, an Ellie."

"An Ellie?" asked the younger one. It was the first time she'd spoken and her squeaky voice betrayed her. She was even younger than Forrest thought.

"What, is she your wife?" the older girl asked.

"Not yet," murmured Forrest, before he added, "But soon."

The girls smiled, glancing at one another. The older girl fixed him with a curious stare for a moment, and then sighed, "Well, since you've got so much family, I'm sure you know what it's like. That need to protect 'em, and be there for 'em. I couldn't just leave her. So we ran. Or, well, we walked mostly. We found this abandoned house in the mountains just that way-"

She pointed out the window and Forrest reckoned she meant Smith Mountain. "That's where we've been staying. Look, I'm sorry we stole your food but…but I'm no hunter and I got to feed her somehow. I know it's wrong but I just…I didn't know what else to do."

There was a desperation in her words. Not just a desperation that drove her to her actions, but a desperation for him to understand. She needed him to understand. To understand why she'd done it and why she would do it again. Because she loved her sister deeply and she would do whatever she had to do to protect her. Forrest could definitely empathize. It was one thing to steal for the hell of it, or for money. But the hungry stealing for food. Besides, they were just children.

Forrest cleared his throat and stood, "Yeah, alright. Y'all finish up. We gotta get goin' before it starts snowin' again."

He took them to his father's farm and told them to wait in the family room, said they could warm up by the stove. He went to Ellie May first. "Those are the ones who broke in?" she whispered, staring at the pair of frighteningly thin girls on the couch. She swatted Forrest's chest. "Forrest…c'mon, now. They're tiny! There's no way they could've lugged all that food up the mountain. Or broken that window. They're babies for Heaven's sake."

"I promise you, Ellie, it's them. Caught 'em in the act." Rubbing his hand over his face, Forrest sighed and motioned the door, "Can you go in there with 'em? Try to…I don't know…calm 'em down or-"

"Yeah, sure thing," she murmured. Ellie May ran her hand up and down his arm before wrapping her fingers around his own. "Hey, this is a good thing. At least you can come home now."

Forrest nodded, "Howard, too."

Ellie May rolled her eyes. "Please, Forrest. I knew the second day that Howard wasn't really staying up there with you. He snores like a bear, remember? Hard missin' a man like that."

Sheepishly muttering an apology, Forrest pressed a kiss to her forehead and went to wake his father as Ellie May slipped into the family room, introducing herself to the young sister thieves. Despite Ellie May's warm smile and motherly affections, the girls remained tense until Papa took charge. Charming man, their father. Papa resolved the situation quickly – the girls' would stay the night in Belva and Era's old room, then they would join Lucy at the cabin in Penbrook where they would remain until something more permanent could be arranged.

"I won't leave my sister," persisted the oldest girl.

Papa Bondurant nodded. "Sounds fair so long as you don't cause any trouble. Think y'all can manage that for a few days?"

"Yes, sir," the sisters chimed.

When morning came the following day, Ellie May sent Emmy to wake the newcomers. The girls tumbled blindly into the kitchen behind the littlest Bondurant, their eyes wide, their cheeks flushed. Ellie May motioned the back door. "Y'all go wash up. Breakfast'll be ready in just a minute."

Too dazed to argue or protest, they did as instructed.

"Hey, Jack, who's that?" Cricket elbowed his best friend as the sisters emerged from the house to gather around the water pump. The pair of young friends were sitting on the fence of the pigpen, tossing twigs and broken chips off pine cones at the pot-bellied sows. Jack's hand froze midair, the pine cone falling limply into the mud. Jack frowned, "I got no clue." Hopping off the fence, he grabbed the suspenders on his chest. "Let's find out."

"Uh, Jack," muttered Cricket as he hobbled after his friend. "That might not be such a good idea."

But Cricket's suggestion fell on deaf ears; Jack was marching toward the water pump with a fierce look in his eyes. Cricket groaned. He knew that look well. Jack was the sheriff in this town and that look clearly said he was out for blood.

The girls looked up as he fast approached. Squaring her shoulders, the eldest pushed her little sister behind her, drying her hands on her clothes. She eyed him angrily, glancing over his shoulder at Cricket. Who were these dirty, pudgy-faced boys and why did they look like they were looking for trouble? The girl cleared her throat, "Who are you?"

Jack nearly fell out. "Who am I? You're on my farm! Who are _you_?"

"I wouldn't say it was _your_ farm," murmured Cricket nervously. The girl was obviously older than them. Taller, too. But she was still a girl and Jack needed to mind his manners. Licking his lips, Cricket introduced himself. "Hi, there. I'm Cricket Pate and this is Jack."

Jack swiftly smacked Cricket's arm. "Shut up, Cricket!"

"_Ow_. What'd you do that for?"

"Why'd you go tellin' 'em our name?"

"Ain't like it's some big secret…"

The youngest Bondurant male glared somethin' awful at his best friend before fixing his hard gaze on the girls. "What're y'all doing on my farm?"

"Eatin' breakfast," growled the eldest girl. Slipping an arm around her sister, she turned toward the house and stalked off.

Jack saw red. "Hey! Don't turn your back on me! I was talkin' to-"

Jack's angry shout was suddenly cut short as a large hand, more of a paw really, clumped around his neck. He was yanked backwards and made to look up at the stern face of his brother, Howard. "Where'd you learn to talk to a woman like that?"

"You," spat Jack, wincing the second it was out of his mouth. Why'd he always have to do that? Say stupid stuff he don't mean.

"Boy, you don-" began Howard, but he seemed to think better of it. Breaking off into a low string of grumbles, he shoved Jack away and told the boys to make themselves presentable; they were having company for breakfast.

"Who are those girls, Howard?"

"None a'your damn business, Jack. Shut up and do as you're told. What're you smirkin' at, Cricket?"

The crippled boy's face instantly fell. "Nothing," he squeaked. "Nothin' at all. Sorry."

"Howard, are you giving those boys a hard time?" shouted Ellie May from the back porch. "Boys, he botherin' you?"

"No!" yelled Cricket, right as Jack hollered, "Yes!"

"For your damn information, woman, I was bothering them 'cause they were bothering those girls!" fired Howard, stomping towards her. Most would've been intimidated by such a sight but sweet, little Ellie May merely rolled her eyes, "Of course they were. Howard, they're children. It's how they communicate."

"It's how you communicate," muttered Howard under his breath. "Always gotta be botherin' somebody."

"What was that?" asked Ellie May.

"Is the food ready, yet?"

"Do you care about anything else besides food? People probably think we starve you the way you're always hungry. It's not natural."

"I'm a big man! I gotta eat!"

"Big baby's more like it," snapped Ellie May as she ushered Cricket and Jack, who were snickering at the adults' exchange, into the house. The kitchen was full of bodies – Papa Bondurant, Forrest, the sister thieves, Lucy – and one of the benches from the picnic table by the barn had to be brought inside to accommodate for everyone.

Emmy and Lucy were setting the table as Ellie May finished retrieving the last pan of biscuits from the oven. Forrest offered a good morning smile to the sisters, guiding them to the table. They sat awkwardly, shifting and fidgeting in their seats. This twitching only got worse when Jack and Cricket took their seats across from them. The younger girl's ears burned red as Cricket attempted to subtly stare at her. Noticing this, Lucy nudged Ellie May with a slight giggle. "Isn't that cute?"

Ellie May frowned. "He's a bit old for her don't you think? Cricket's fifteen and that little girl can't be more than twelve. Hell, maybe younger."

Lucy drew in a quick breath. "I forget Cricket's so much older than Jack as scrawny as he is. Poor fella."

It was on the tip of Ellie May's tongue to tell Lucy she didn't have much room to talk as far as being scrawny went. But somehow she managed to swallow the comment and joined her family at the table. Papa said a quick grace, thanking the Lord for the safe arrival of their new guests and praying for their eventual safe departure. There was a constant, polite murmur of conversation while they ate. Lucy and Ellie May tried to keep things light while pretending that Jack and Cricket weren't blatantly staring at the girls. When their plates were empty and their stomachs full, Forrest and Howard escorted their younger siblings out of the house, leaving the sisters to talk with Lucy and their father while Ellie May cleared the table.

"Who are they?" grumbled Jack for the twelfth time. His hands stuffed in his pocket, he drummed his thumbs on the tops of his thighs.

Emmy poked her brother's shoulder. "Why you bein' so nosy?"

"They just needed a place to stay, is all," replied Forrest before Emmy and Jack could get started. "Why're y'all sitting around? Don't you got some chores to do?"

Cricket scratched his neck. "We're supposed to be having school right now."

"Yeah, well class is cancelled," muttered Howard. He motioned the fields and barn. "Y'all go on. Get."

"You know those girls are going to be staying at your cabin and you can't be talking to them like you do Jack and Emmy," murmured Forrest as the younger kids scrambled away. Howard sighed, eyeing the house, "Yeah, I know. How the hell we gone find somebody to take 'em? Folks around here can't afford their own damn children, much less two more."

Forrest grounded his teeth. "Papa'll think of something. Always does."

* * *

"Here!" She thrust the notebooks at him, their worn spines cracking. "I can't make the numbers add up! None of it is adding up. It doesn't make any sense. Where is all of the money going?"

Fighting a grin, Forrest took the notebooks from Ellie May and leafed through the pages. The first notebook was a record of the register that Ellie May updated every night. Every sale they made was recorded in that notebook. In the second, each purchase they made was recorded. Any time Forrest bought steaks or new dishes or a pair of table cloths, he jotted it down. In another notebook, the bills were recorded. The electricity, the mortgage, the gas. And once a week Forrest or Ellie May would take the notebooks and see to it that every penny was accounted for.

"I hate math. I hate it," moaned Ellie May.

"You're not wrong. We're just runnin' outta money," murmured Forrest, tapping his pencil on the paper. With a frustrated sigh, Ellie May fell down into the chair beside him. Her elbows on the table, she rubbed her temples, "I don't understand where all of it is going."

"Don't worry. I'll make a couple of runs next month and get us back on track."

"Is that going to be the solution every time we get a little behind?"

Forrest shot her a bemused glance. "You got a better idea?"

Pursing her lips, Ellie May folded her arms in front of her. "Why don't we sell Howard to the circus? Well, that's if they'll take him. He could be a strong man…or some kind of freak show like a half-man, half-monkey."

Forrest gave a low chuckle and dropped his hat onto the table. It was late, the sky black outside. They were alone at the restaurant. He pointed at the stove still burning behind the bar. "Turn that off, will you?" The end of April was upon them and a low, soft heat was brewing in the mountains. Tugging at the collar of his shirt, Forrest loosened the first few buttons and motioned for Ellie May to join him after she shut off the stove.

He patted his thigh invitingly.

"Hold your horses." Ellie May locked the front door and turned off the lights in the kitchen and storage room. Then, she settled in his lap, her hands slipping over his shoulders. Crossing her ankles, she leaned against him and curled her fingers at the nap of his neck. "What am I gonna do with you, Forrest Bondurant?"

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Love me."

"All be damned if you aren't just a big sweetheart," she softly murmured, stroking his cheek. Ellie May placed a light kiss on lips, her fingertip trailing along his jaw. "I spoke with Lucy yesterday. She got a letter from the girls last week, said they're doing good. Apparently, Sadie's doing real well in school. Her teacher thinks she might graduate early."

Three months ago the sisters – Sadie, the eldest, and Margaret – were adopted by a wealthy couple from North Carolina. The husband was a banker, the wife a volunteer nurse. Apparently, their only child had been a boy who'd fought and died in the war and they'd been trying to replace his absence in their lives ever since. None of the Bondurants were quite sure how their father knew the couple, but were thankful nevertheless. The sisters sent Lucy letters once a month.

Forrest twisted Ellie May's hair around his finger. "Sounds about right."

Leaning forward, she kissed the tip of his nose. "You about ready to head home?"

The Bondurant boy shook his head. "Nope." Hugging her waist, he drew her face to his and kissed her tenderly. She hummed happily against him, one hand firmly cradling his head, the other splaying across his chest. Her fingertips inched north to stroke the skin exposed where he'd opened his shirt; she felt him shiver when she touched him.

"I can turn the stove back on if you're cold," she whispered teasingly, her breath warm on his lips. Nearly four years had passed since Forrest first kissed her in that deer stand in the woods and Ellie May was amazed that his kisses still turned her into pudding. His lips were so plump and his touch so gentle. When he kissed her, her heart thudded in her chest and her pulse pumped in her ears and her world tilted off its axis ever so slightly. She didn't ever wanna stop kissing him.

His calloused hand cupped her face. Their foreheads pressed together, Forrest nipped at her mouth and murmured her name. There was no feeling in the world quite like holding her to him. Something about being able to feel her pressed against him, about knowing she was safe in his arms. It made Forrest feel like a man in every sense of the word. Their mouths gently scraping, he coaxed her lips apart to taste her. Her hands tightened around him and she arched forward into his touch.

Suddenly, Forrest stilled beneath her. Ellie may shifted, drawing back. She licked her lips and asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Headlights," Forrest murmured and the next thing Ellie May knew she was lifted from his lap and put on her feet. Smoothing out her skirt, she followed Forrest to the window, ignoring him when he shushed her back. Forrest took one look outside and muttered, "Aw, hell."

Unlocking the front door, he told Ellie May to get some water boiling and fetch some rags. Forrest yanked open the door just as Howard and Danny reached the front steps, Tom Cundiff limp and bloodied in their arms. "What happened?" demanded Forrest as they dragged Tom inside The County Line.

"He got shot," shouted Danny, his gaze wide and nervous. The front of his person was caked in Tom's blood and there were streaks of crimson down his face. "We were making a run to Knoxville and got stopped by a couple of sheriff's just after passing the state line. Them Tennessee fuckers don't play. They just shot him! Didn't give any warnin' or nothin'!"

They lugged Tom up onto a table and Howard immediately went about ripping his shirt from his chest. The bullet had entered his left side between his heart and stomach and blood was gushing from the wound like a burst pipe.

"Ellie, I need those rags!" called Forrest.

"Oh my Lord!" shrieked Ellie May when she emerged from the kitchen, a bundle of dishrags in hand. "What happened?!"

"Tom's been shot," mumbled Howard. "Forrest, we gotta stop this bleeding or he ain't gone make it much longer."

Ellie May cradled Tom's head in her hands as they attempted to stop the flow of blood pouring out of his side. She stroked his hair and spoke to him a long, excited string of near incoherent-ness. As she spoke, his eyes darted around, low moans of pain echoing in his throat. A few times his eyes rolled back into his head and she'd slap his face. "Tommy, you gotta stay awake, now! C'mon."

"Howard, it ain't stoppin'. We gotta get him to the hospital," muttered Forrest, his hands, too, now covered in his friend's blood.

"They ask questions at hospitals," replied Howard, his voice low and undetected by Danny or Ellie May. Across the table, Forrest cut Howard with a look so disgusted that he thought his brother might vomit on spot. Howard ground his teeth, "I'm just sayin', Forrest. Can you afford to lose the still?"

"It's just money, Howard. Tommy's _dying_. You know Hodges and them don't give two shits about Prohibition."

"Don't mean we should go flaunting it-"

"Danny!" growled Forrest. "Fetch the car. _Now_. Ellie, call the hospital in Rocky Mount, let 'em know we're comin'."

* * *

**Another surprise ending, I suspect. Hope this one had enough fluff and the promise of a little action to satisfy you. **


	22. Chapter 22

**Just wanted to clear something up about the dates. I don't think I made it evident enough in the last chapter. Over a year has passed since Forrest bought The County Line. He bought it in February (Chapter 19), four months passed when the girls broke in, he caught them in July (Chapter 20), they stayed with Lucy until January when they were adopted, and the last chapter took place at the end of April. I hope that cleared things up.**

**For our friends here in the south, I hope everyone has stayed safe with this nasty weather! My prayers are with you all. **

**I got a great response to all the fluff in the last update so I thought I'd feed that a little bit more. I hope you enjoy this fluff-fest just as much! **

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

Waiting in the cold, barren hallway of the hospital, Forrest stared at his hands. They were drenched in blood. His friend's blood. A strange feeling brewed within him. This was the first time Forrest looked at the blood on his hands and felt that it should not be there. This blood had not deserved to be spilt. There was no lesson to be taught, nothing to be gained. And yet there it was, bright and slick, caking pads of his fingers and the rough calluses of his palms. Beside him, his older brother's eyes were closed and he was taking low, semi-steady breaths. His hands, like Forrest's, were stained crimson and twitched, as if having a spasm.

A nurse appeared. She seemed faintly familiar and Forrest wondered if she'd looked after him when he'd stayed in this very hospital after Clyde Eller shattered his legs. The nurse smiled politely at them. "Your friend's doing better if you'd like to go see him."

Howard's eyes cracked open. He glanced at Forrest, then stood, following the nurse to a tiny box of a room at the end of the corridor. Danny groaned from the hospital bed. His face was still green but flushed a brilliant red when Howard appeared. "I can't believe I threw up," Danny whined. "You won't tell anybody will you?"

Howard's fingers flexed at his sides. "No. I ain't gone tell."

Danny's shoulders sagged in relief; he sank further into the white sheets. "Any word on Tommy?"

"Forrest's waiting to hear now. Doc thinks they can get the bullet out, said it didn't hit anything important but…Tom lost a lot of blood. They're trying to pump some back into him now."

The room fell quiet, then Danny cleared his throat, furiously blinking away the rising moisture in his eyes. "It was my fault, Howard. This run was my call. I knew we sh-"

"Aw, shut up, Danny," bit Howard. "Tom might be dying and you wanna have a pity party?"

Danny's beautiful white teeth flashed as his lips curled back. "Fuck off, Howard."

He knew Danny was only being defensive out of some sense of misplaced blame. Tom getting shot was no one's fault but the bastard that pulled the trigger. That being said, Howard was a man easily riled up by those closest to him. On top of that, he was already worrying about Tommy. So, Howard did what came natural – he lunged across the bed and tackled his best friend to the floor.

* * *

Forrest glanced up as several nurses ran passed him, dashing down the hall. He watched them disappear into the same room, one after another, and heard a gaggle of broken shouts. He wondered if someone was dying. A failed heart. A collapsed lung. A seizing old man. Suddenly, the door to Tom's room opened and the doctor emerged. Dr. Cobbs sighed, tilting his head in acknowledgement. "Mr. Bondurant."

Forrest grunted a greeting, moving to stand as the doctor relayed Tom's condition. "He's stable for now. We managed to retrieve the bullet and replaced most of the blood he lost. We'll need to keep him for observation for a few days, monitor his vitals, keep the wound clean, watch for infection. Mr. Cundiff won't be able to move for a couple of days, anyhow, or he'll reopen the stitches."

When the Doc finished, Forrest shook his hand and thanked him. Before the doctor could turn away, Forrest asked if he could us the hospital's phone. The one at the nurses' desk.

Ellie May took three rings to answer and she sounded a tad out of breath when she did. He imagined her on her knees scrubbing away the trail of Tom's blood on the floor of The County Line. He could so clearly see her there, hands viciously dragging a wet rag back and forth over the stains, blood building up beneath her fingernails. He saw her flinch when the phone rang, saw her jumping up and racing into his office to catch the ringing telephone.

She called softly through the phone. "Forrest?"

"They think Tommy's gonna be alright."

"Oh, thank God," she sighed. "And you, are you alright?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I'll be by to get you soon."

"Who's going to stay with Tom?"

Forrest ran his hand over his face. He shifted the phone in his grasp. "Nobody, I reckon."

"Don't you dare leave him up there by himself, Forrest Bondurant. Somebody ought to stay with him. What if something happens?"

"Ellie, I ain't a doctor. What am I gonna do?" The line was silent and Forrest sighed, conceding. "Maybe I can get Howard to stay."

"Thank you."

"I'll be back soon…" Forrest went to hang the phone on the receiver but hesitated. "Ellie? I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

As he suspected, the floor, as well as the table where they'd laid Tom, were clean when he returned to The County Line. The only evidence that remained was the dark glaze where the pools of blood had been. The wood now held a shiny darkness, like someone had spilled tea. Ellie May was sitting in his office, knees drawn up in the chair, feet tucked beneath her. He didn't think she'd heard him enter, but as he approached, she glanced up and said flatly, "You know you can't do runs anymore."

Forrest withheld a wince. He'd expected as much. Kneeling before her, he rested one hand on her knee to steady himself, softly dragging his fingers across her skirt. "Yeah, I figured as much."

"I don't know what we'll do but we can't take that kind of risk. It's just money. It's not worth your life-" Her voice broke, her speech faltering. The muscles in her jaw clenched and her lips pulled into a tight line as she tried to swallow her rising emotions. Forrest's stomach churned at the sight of her pain. He leaned forward to stroke her cheek tentatively like he was approaching a skittish animal, "Ellie, I'm gonna be fine."

"I know you will but, damn, Forrest. That was an awful lot of blood. What if that had been you? Who's going to take _you_ to the hospital?"

"You know how to drive, don't you?" he teased, wanting desperately to lighten her mood. He, of course, had no intention of ever allowing her to take care of him like that; or any other woman for that matter.

Ellie May smacked his hand. "That's not funny."

He continued to caress her knee. "I'm sorry."

Sliding forward, Ellie May slipped her arms around him and drew his head to her chest. Ellie May pressed her cheek to his hair. He was so warm. She held him tightly, letting the heat from his body soak into her. She wanted to absorb his being, to take him into her and keep him safe from the world. Ellie May squeezed his shoulders and then sighed, "Can we go home now?"

* * *

"Why the fuck does he look so happy?"

Three weeks after the disastrous run to Knoxville, Tom Cundiff was healing just fine. Unfortunately, he had developed a bit of cabin fever and demanded daily visits to keep from the overwhelming urge to kill himself every time he tried to leave the bed only to have a very stern nurse slap him back down. Twice already he'd threatened bodily harm to the hospital staff.

"You don't know?" asked Danny, glancing over at Howard. The giant man was propped against the wall, burly arms folded over his thick chest. There was a slight smugness about him and Danny rolled his eyes. "Well, since you went and got shot, Tommy Boy, Ellie May has forbidden Forrest from making run-"

"What? That's horseshit! We need Forrest! She doesn't control him," growled Tom.

"Clearly you don't know Forrest," snorted Howard. "Calm down before you give yourself a stroke. He ain't gone be doing any runs but Forrest ain't quittin'. He needs the money."

Tom's brow furrowed, his forehead drawing down, making him look more like an ape than a man. "I don't get it."

Danny beamed. "We're gone make the mule and Forrest is gonna sell it…through The County Line."

Tom blinked a few times, the crease in his brow eventually smoothing. "No shit," he whispered.

Danny gave a stupid grin. "_Shit_."

The door creaked open suddenly and the man in question entered the room, a covered plate in hand. Tom greeted his friend warmly. "You little son of a bitch. Why didn't you tell me you're gonna push it for us?"

"Never came up," said Forrest simply. Sniffing the air, Howard made a grab for the plate in his hand but Forrest shoved him off. He set the plate on Tom's bedside table. "Ellie made you some fried steak."

"God love that girl." Tom lunged for the plate, tearing off the cloth napkin and picking up the steak with his fingers. Gnawing off a piece, he spoke through a mouthful of meat, "This fucking hospital food's been killing me."

Howard sniffed once more and nudged Forrest. "Hey, she make me any?"

Forrest said nothing. He dragged a chair across the room, dropping it at the top of Tommy's bed. Leaning forward, he addressed his friends and brother. "I stopped by to talk but I can't stay long. Hal's watching the restaurant 'til I get back."

"Oh, well, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to join us," scoffed Tom as he chomped into the steak, ripping off another chunk of meat with his teeth.

"Least you got food," growled Howard.

"I've been eating mush for three weeks!"

Rolling his eyes, Howard grumbled something under his breath and Danny shot Forrest an amused look. "They've been like this for days."

"I can't handle his bitchin'," mutter Howard.

"I've been shot!" wailed Tommy. "I think that's a pretty damn good excuse to bitch a little."

"A little?"

"Alright, ladies, calm down," sniggered Danny. Tom and Howard's bickering instantly silenced as they cut their eyes at their friend, simultaneously spitting, "Fuck you, Mitchell."

Rather than get riled up by their taunt, Danny merely flashed another dazzling grin and asked, "What'd you stop by to talk about, Forrest?"

"This business about pushing the white lightning through my restaurant," he rumbled. Forrest's face leveled, growing very calm suddenly, and he looked vaguely like someone important. Maybe a prominent banker, real high class and all. Forrest righted his sweater and said plainly, "We gone have to establish some rules."

By the time Forrest left the hospital it was clear their operation on Turkey Cock Mountain was no longer a partnership. Forrest was runnin' things now. There was not a lot of upset in regards to this major shift in power. Tom didn't care who was in charge of what so long as he got paid. Virtually nothing changed for Danny – he would still be the main one mixing the mash and making the mule. And Howard, well Howard was finally getting exactly what he wanted. So when Forrest climbed into his pine green Ford and began trucking back along the dusty Virginia roads, he felt pretty at ease with the world.

He wove through the winding trees and over Maggodee Creek bridge, back toward Blackwater. He stopped at the lumber yard where he used to work and purchased a load of wood from Gen, his former manager. Gen tried to make small talk for a minute, told Forrest he'd heard about The County Line, congratulating him and such. Forrest did the polite thing and nodded, grunting appropriately, before going about his way. When he made it back to The County Line, he and Everett unloaded the lumber around back a little ways up on a slight hill.

"What's all this?" asked Ellie May, hands on her hips. She eyed him suspiciously, as if to ask, 'What are you up to now?'

Forrest motioned for Everett to return to work and crossed to his companion. "I, uh…I'm gonna build a separate storage shed."

"Why? We have plenty of room inside. Unless you're thinking about expanding and if you are you know we don't have that kind of money right now."

"I got somethin' else in mind for it," he murmured.

Taking a deep breath, Forrest studied the back of his restaurant. Before he bought this place, Forrest had more money than he knew what to do with. Now, it was all he could do to get by. He knew his father had only wanted him to have some sort of honest work, some promise of a future to go on, but now that promised future was running him into the ground with debt. And Forrest didn't like owing anybody.

"We're going to sell shine here." He'd said it casually in hopes of relaying a sense of confidence. He didn't have a clue if this was going to work or not. In fact, he was rather certain it was an awful idea, one that would lead to bloodshed and chaos. But Forrest didn't rightly see any other option.

Ellie May sucked in her bottom lip, nodding. "I had a feeling you would."

Surprised, he glanced over at her. "Did you now?"

"I've seen the books, remember? We've gotten into a bad way." Ellie May lifted his arm, snuggling into his side. He curled his arm around her. They hugged, a slight breeze wafting over the mountain, ruffling her hair and skirt. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and muttered, "No deals inside. Only in the parking lot."

"How about around back?" he suggested. Easier to draw less attention that way.

"Fine," she mumbled, her lips brushing the skin above his collar. His hold around her became steel and she squeezed his midsection affectionately. Forrest smiled. It was a brief smile, quick, barely lifting the edges of his mouth. And though she couldn't see it, Ellie May felt it and gave a little grin herself. Her lips spread against his skin causing the back of his throat to tighten with pleasure. An unexpected idea came to him. He slowly untangled himself from her to take her hands in his own. Rubbing his thumbs in circles on the flat of her palms, he asked, "You busy right now?"

Ellie May rose a brow. "Well, I'm workin'…"

Forrest licked his lips. "I'm bettin' that your boss won't mind if you take the rest of the afternoon off."

"Are you sure?" She fought a grin. "I hate to leave Hal to run the place all by himself."

"He's got Everett and Jefferson. C'mon. He'll be fine." Before she could protest, Forrest squatted, gripping her waist and lifting her on his shoulder. She was so light! He might as well been carryin' Emmy. As she slapped his back, demanding he put her down, Forrest smacked the thick of her thigh playfully. "We gotta get you eatin' more."

"I eat just fine, thank you," Ellie May huffed. "Not everyone eats as much as a horse like you and Howard."

Chuckling, Forrest finally placed her on her feet. He popped open the truck door. Ellie May pursed her lips as she slid onto the seat. "Where are we going?"

With a wink, Forrest shut the door. "You'll see."

* * *

Her eyes were closed as she floated on the surface of the water wearing nothing but her slip and underwear. Forrest had never seen her look so beautiful. Not at the many bonfires and town gatherings, firelight dancing on her face. Not at their home, his younger siblings lovingly tugging at the folds of her dress. Not on those nights along driving back from Cricket's home on Smith Mountain, the wind in her hair, a secret grin on her face. No, Ellie May had never looked as beautiful as she did right then. And she was all his.

He'd brought her to Maggodee Creek where they'd spent countless summer days with the family. Parking in a thicket of honeysuckle behind the bridge, it had taken half an hour to convince her to strip down and join him in the cool water. "Someone could see us."

"Ain't nobody gone see. Baby, c'mon."

She'd waded cautiously into the water, gaze darting this way and that. He'd tried telling her no one was looking – 'cept maybe a stray squirrel or rabbit. Ellie May had simply responded by splashing him in the face.

"Just what're you staying at, Mr. Bondurant?" purred Ellie May, jarring him from his thoughts, her eyes remaining peacefully shut.

His mouth abruptly ran dry as Forrest struggled to put into words the glory before him. Her white slip clung to her body in the water; the sheer fabric was nearly see through, outlining her breasts, hips, stomach. And as she floated on the creek's surface, her dark hair fanned out around her, the sun making her pale skin glow.

Ellie May called his name when didn't reply.

"Hmm?"

She smirked. "You've been staring."

"I have."

Her head lifted out of the water, eyes popping open. "That didn't sound like a question."

Forrest reached for her in the water. "It wasn't."

He kissed her softly, fingers threading in her wet hair. Their bodies were pressed together, her thin slip the only blockade between their bare chests. Ellie May shivered at the intimate contact. She curled her legs around his waist to try and steady her nerves. The moment she did so, Forrest stilled beneath her. Immediately, Ellie May drew back, apologizing, "I'm sorry. Was it too muc-"

"No." He swiftly caught her legs as she tried to swim away. He yanked her back, their hips colliding roughly. His large, rough, wet hands cradled her cheeks. "No. It's not you. You're perfect."

"Then wh-" That was when she felt him pressing into her stomach. Ellie May gasped. "Is that…?"

Forrest took a deep breath. He nodded.

A gentle giggle emitted from the girl in his arms and Forrest's brow creased. Before he could become deeply offended, Ellie May kissed his nose. "It's about time."

Forrest grunted, the knots in his stomach unwinding. "Well…I, um…"

"I'm teasing, Forrest."

Ellie May studied him silently. She reached out, dragging the pad of her finger over his mouth. She traced the outline of his plump lips, paying extra attention to the natural pout on his bottom lip. His breath was hot, a nice contradiction to the cool water surrounding them. Biting her lip, Ellie May moved her finger over his lips and down his jaw. The slight growth of stubble tickled her. _This is what it feels like to really love someone, _shethought_, and to be loved in return. _

Ellie May could feel the tears beginning to form. She blinked, trying to will them back, but all at once they were impossible to stop. She gave herself over to him then, allowing him to kiss her mouth, her cheeks, her neck. She leaned back in his arms, her shoulders skimming the water, her hair floating around them.

They kissed for a long time in the water, their bodies bobbing in the place in the middle of the creek. Neither spoke again until the sun began to sink on the horizon. As the sky became a mesmerizing haze of pinks, purples, oranges, and blues, Ellie May sighed against Forrest's mouth. "I can't feel my toes."

He laughed, their bodies shaking with the deep chuckles. Pulling his hand from her hair, Forrest lifted her hand up to examine the pruned fingers. He kissed the pads of her fingers, gently sucking them into his mouth. A slow liquid heat stirred within Ellie May, her eyes drifting shut. She hugged him fiercely, pressing her mouth to his ear. "You have to stop that…stop that right now, Forrest, or we might never leave this creek. I promised your daddy I'd fry that chicken tonight."

Forrest murmured a few half-hearted gripes but eventually conceded, leading her over to the creek bed. He drew her out of the water, wrapping his shirt around her thin frame when they reached the truck. He trapped her between the door and his body, capturing her mouth once more. "Ellie, if I asked you to marry me right now, would you?"

"Absolutely," she told him honestly. "But you better not. Not yet."

"Why not?" Forrest couldn't think of one good reason why he should wait. He loved her and wanted to make her his in every sense of the word. He wanted to put a ring on her finger and show the world that she had agreed to be his wife, to love him until her dying day.

"Because," Ellie May began as she slipped on her skirt, water dripping down her legs. "…if we get married we'll have to move out and I can't do that yet. Jack and Emmy still need a momma and I'd like to help Papa out as much as possible. At least until Jack is old enough to take over for you in the fields completely. What do you say we make a deal?"

Forrest quirked an eyebrow, amused. "I'm listening."

"You know I'll say yes anytime you ask me to marry you, whether it's right now or in a month or a year or a decade. I will never say no to you. But I won't marry you until Emmy's at least fourteen. Maybe fifteen."

"Three years," he whispered, his lips breaking into a grin so wide that it almost hurt. "In three years you'll be mine."

"Oh, baby," she cupped his chin. "I've always been yours. In three years we'll just have some rings and a piece of paper to prove it."

* * *

**Thoughts? **


	23. Chapter 23

**I always forget to do this. Sorry. **

**Disclaimer:**** I only own Ellie May. …kinda. She mostly owns herself.**

**This chapter is dedicated to the very dear and loyal **Dawnie-7 **and my new friend **26RH, **thank you for all your wonderful advice! **

**But this chapter isn't just dedicated to them. It's also for: **Not. So. Typical. Girl., Dotty Vintage, Slytherin Studios, every Guest reviewer, Jolie Smith, Pc86, JazzyJane, Priscilla2, IsYourH3artTaken, vilevillian, dcsays, Laura Page Turner, Wolflihood, nicci1980, annechou59, KaicherAlfstan, JohnnyStormsGirl, Kayl1104, Dasiygirl95, greg, Morgan, ConsistentlyRandom21, aeskubal, **and **mzmayne6. **Please keep doing what you're doing! Your support and feedback is lovely and wonderful and fantastic and all that other good stuff. Thanks for always letting me know what you guys like and where you want to see the story go. **

**Enjoy. **

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ellie May was all but salivating. Her mouth hung open as she took several long, airy breaths. Her pupils were dilated with lust and she was afraid to blink, worried that the wonderful visage before her would disappear. She stood in the storage room of The County Line watching through the back window as Forrest and Howard hammered away at what was soon to be the shed that would house their liquor. Forrest's back was to her, his shirt discarded, suspenders hanging loose around his hips. There was a clear sheen of sweat caking the tanned muscles of his shoulders and back. And what a fine back it was.

Biting her lip, Ellie May nearly jumped when Abigail, the day waitress, popped up at her side. She peered out the window, the crow's feet around her eyes crinkling as she squinted at the sun. "To be young again…"

"Abbey, you're not old."

Abigail shot her an incredulous but grateful glance. "I've got three children, baby, I'm old."

Tonight was the first night they were going to try making a sale at the restaurant. Danny and Howard had it all set up, a whole string of folks already waitin'. It was also the debut of their new mash – apple brandy. The boys had been tripping over themselves in excitement for the last month, testing out new methods of making corn whiskey, trying out new flavors. They had produced several promising batches. But none of 'em had shit on the apple brandy, according to Danny. To them, this whole affair was like Christmas and they were Santa's elves.

"I wonder if that makes Forrest Santa," murmured Ellie May aloud. With one final, longing glance, she forced herself to turn from the window and fetched the men glasses of iced tea. She brought it to them on a tray, desperately praying no one noticed the way she miserably failed at not staring at Forrest. "Y'all about done?"

It was early. They'd gotten to work before the sun rose, hoping to beat the summer heat. Now, as they were putting the finishing touches on the shed and bringing down the corn whiskey from the mountain, the sun was fully alert and shining down on them, its golden rays bathing the countryside in warmth. It was going to be a beautiful day. The rays of light streaming through the clouds, Ellie May hoped the kind weather was a good omen.

"Yeah, we're about done," sighed Howard as he gulped down his glass of tea in a single go. Dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, he passed the empty cup back to her, muttered some thanks, and turned back to his hammer.

"We have to put the door on and fit the lock but then we'll be finished," explained Forrest. He took a bit longer with his tea, lingering at her side. "Danny and Tommy should be here soon with the liquor. We'll get it unloaded and see how all this plays out."

"Are you nervous?" asked Ellie May. She was. It was dangerous business what they were doing. But she had faith in her boys. She knew they wouldn't let it get out of hand. Forrest, sensing her train of thought, shook his head softly. He half-grinned, "Naw, I ain't worried. Everything's gone be fine. Why don't you tell Hal to go on and start the grill? Let the breakfast crowd on in."

"Alright," she conceded as Forrest placed a quick kiss on her cheek. He tossed her a wink as he returned to his labors and Ellie May couldn't help but smile, retreating inside.

The breakfast crowd consisted of a single man – Alton Abrams. An older gentleman who owned a farm a stone's throw from the restaurant, he arrived every morning at exactly seven-thirty and ate the same breakfast every day. Scrambled eggs, a side of grits, two pieces of toast. Extra pepper on the eggs. And a coffee, black. Ellie May didn't know much about him as she usually didn't get to the restaurant until well after three or four in the afternoon, but as she studied him from behind the bar, she reckoned he was a nice enough man alright. He ate slowly, methodically, _politely, _unlike some she knew. She subconsciously glanced towards the rear of the restaurant where she knew Howard busy hammering away. He was such an animal sometimes.

Not five minutes after Alton Abrams cleaned his plate and left, Danny Mitchell, Tom Cundiff, and Gummy Coleman burst through the front door of the restaurant. They wore matching fat grins. Danny tipped his hat at her, "Mornin' there, Ellie May. How you doin' today?"

Danny's cheerfulness was contagious and Ellie May fought a fat grin herself. "I'm doin' alright. How 'bout yourself?"

His pearly white teeth shone as he replied, "I am doin' wonderful. S'gone be a good day. A _damn _good day."

"Gummy go tell Forrest we're here," order Tom, shoving his less than intelligent friend towards the back door. Ellie May shook her head, "Y'all are so mean to him. It's a wonder he helps y'all at all."

"It don't count as help if you're gettin' paid. That's called work," corrected Tom.

Gummy darted back inside a moment later, muttering that Forrest said to pull their trucks around back. They unloaded the shine quickly and when they were through, the five men stood back and just sort of stared. They knew it was going to make history, what they were doing. Knew this thing was either gonna be the best decision of their lives or the worst. There was a lot of money to be made, but also a lot of trouble that could be had if they didn't play their cards right. Finally, Forrest uncrossed his arms and nodded, "Yeah, alright. Spread the word. We're open for business."

* * *

The County Line was a madhouse. The hour was just after midnight and never before had the floor of the restaurant been so packed with bodies. On every flat surface and in every hand was an open jar of corn whiskey, disguised by a crumpled paper bag or swathed in dishrags. A dull haze of smoke hung low around the tables, a thin curtain of tobacco wisps. Abigail and Ellie May were dancing between the tables, fetching refills and collecting tabs. There was a constant hum of chatter, broken by the occasional shout of victory from the card game in the back, or Hal calling out a new order of fried steak in the kitchen.

Abigail stuffed a folded wad of bills into the apron tied around her waist as she slipped back behind the counter to ring up a customer at the register. She tossed a passing grin at Ellie May. "Don't nobody tip like a happy, drunk, old fool."

Sniggering, Ellie May gathered up a load of dirty dishes and took them into the kitchen. Dropping them into the soapy depths of the sink, she apologized to Jefferson. Already his fingers were pruned from all the dish washing. But Jefferson just nodded and lipped his cigarette, rolling his sleeves further up his arms. "Keep 'em comin'."

Ellie May dipped into Forrest's office and closed the door. Kneeling, she withdrew the hidden cash box from under the old wood stove in the corner. She'd just emptied the register for the third time that night and so far they'd collected over six hundred dollars. This, of course, included the seemingly endless string of convoys in the back lot. Dozens of cars and trucks lined the parking lot, folks just itchin' to grab a jar of liquor. According to Danny, if things continued at this rate, they'd run out of mule before two o'clock.

As she locked the cash box and slid it back under the furnace, she heard a distinguished shout of anger from the front. She paused with one arm hovering beneath the belly of the stove and listened. There came a pop of shattering glass; someone had thrown a jar at a wall. A clatter of wood and the heavy sound of struggling bodies. A man yelped in pain. "Shit," Ellie May hissed, jumping up and darting into the kitchen. Jefferson took his hands out of the soapy water and began to dry them on a rag, "Miss Ellie May, you might wanna go get Mr. Forrest."

Nodding, Ellie May skirted through the kitchen, narrowly missing a tower of stacked crates. She burst out the back door and crossed the lot to where Forrest, Howard, Tom, Danny, and Gummy stood, gathered around the small fire pit, toasting their success. "Forrest!" she screamed. "You better get in here!"

Inside, the previous madness of the restaurant had turned into pure chaos. Hal stood at the end of the counter, holding the wooden club they kept under the bar in his hand, his shoulders tense. His hair hung in limp hanks by his ear and he was breathing heavily. At the opposite end of the bar, Everett stood with the shotgun poised in his grasp. The barrel of the gun was pointed at the chest of a very massive man that stood in the center of the restaurant's floor between two over turned tables. Nearly a dozen bodies lay limp at this man's feet and Jefferson was knelt by a one of the unconscious men, checking for any sign of life.

"Hey there, Duey Ray," called Forrest, he and his partners pouring in through the back exit. "What's goin' on?

The man's gaze snapped up, alert and alive with a pure rage. "Where the fuck is Wendell?"

"He ain't here," answered Tom.

The man, Duey Ray, bellowed with rage. "Don't fuckin' lie to me. I know that mother fucker's here somewhere."

"If he's here," began Forrest, lowly. "I haven't seen him. Why don't we go outside an-"

"Listen here, Bondurant, I ain't goin' nowhere 'til I get that sorry son of a bitch. You stay the fuck outta my way and let me take care of my business. Then, I'll be gone."

Forrest swallowed thoughtfully, surveying the damage done. "Yeah, um, I hear what you're saying, Duey Ray, but I can't do that. You done fucked up 'bout ten other men and, uh, you can't be doin' that."

Duey Ray cracked his knuckles. His nostrils flared and he ground his teeth, spitting, "You got three seconds to do somethin', Forrest, before I level this fuckin' shit hole."

"Huh," grunted Forrest. Three seconds. He glanced around, swiftly undoing the watch on his wrist. Duey Ray Hogan was a colossal man. Like Howard, he was strapped thickly across the chest and stood well over six feet tall. Now, Forrest was a weakling by no means but if he was going to do this, he was going to have to go about things a certain way. One second.

"Ellie May," he murmured, extending his watch. "Hold this, will you?"

Her trembling fingers took the watch from his hand, tucking it against her chest. The second she did so, Forrest lunged forward to yank Duey Ray's pants down to his ankles. The giant man lurched in surprise but was only momentarily rendered still. He automatically clobbered Forrest with his right hand, one solid swipe across Forrest's cheek. Forrest reeled for a moment, stepped back and touching his already numbing face. When he did this, Duey Ray stumbled forward after him, but was caught by his pants. As he fell forward, Forrest caught him 'round the waist, tackling him to the floor.

Forrest straddled his stomach, throwing alternating haymakers in Duey Ray's face. He punched until Duey Ray's nose poured crimson and his legs quit kicking underneath him. Then, he punched once or twice more for good measure. For a moment, his shoulders slumped and his head hung, his body physically spent, before he finally rose to his feet. "Let's get him outside."

Forrest and Howard dragged the man out by his ankles and threw him into the ditch beside the road and when he hit the ground, the earth packed hard with Virginia clay, he moaned and clutched at his bloody head. Howard's fingers curled into a fist at his side, preparing to strike. But then Duey Ray's form fell limp and quiet. He passed out in the dirt. "Leave it to this sorry piece of shit to ruin our good time," mutter Howard. He spat on Duey Ray's unconscious body. "What's he want with Wendell, anyhow?"

"I dunno know. Prolly has something to do with the fact that Wendell slept with his wife."

Tom, Danny, and Gummy helped drag the other men outside while the restaurant staff went about straightening the place up. A few folks left, but most lingered in the corners while the atmosphere slowly loosened back up. Forrest drew Ellie May into his office once the madness calmed a bit. He cupped her face, "You alright? You didn't get hit did you?"

Ellie May shook her head. "Are _you_ alright?" She brought his bloodied knuckles up to examine them in the light. "Shit, baby." She ran her fingers over the swollen joints, little flecks of crusted blood falling off beneath her touch. Sliding his watch back on his wrist, she kissed the backs of his hands and told him to hold still. She fetched a rag, wet it, then returned to clean his wounds. As she tenderly stroked the rag across his jagged flesh, she murmured quietly, "Not to be encouraging, but that was impressive."

His brow furrowed. "What was?"

Ellie May scoffed. He never ceased to amaze her. "Forrest, that Duey Ray, or whoever he was, he's a man and a half. He's huge! Like fighting a bear! And you just took him out. Like that-" She snapped her fingers, head shaking in disbelief. "I know you can handle yourself but…but, _damn._"

A sheepish blush spread across his skin, over the tips of his ears and down the back of his neck. Forrest lamely shrugged. "It wasn't nothin'."

She ran her fingertips over the left side of his face. The skin had plumped up, not quite swollen but getting there. Turning a light shade of purple, if they didn't get some ice on that soon, his cheek would be the size of a grapefruit come morning. "You need to put ice on that," she murmured, turning toward the cooler.

"Hang on," Forrest caught her wrist. Cupping her chin, he caressed his thumb over her smooth, milky skin. He felt ashamed. "Ellie, I'm sorry you had to see that…sorry that it happened. I can't guarantee things like that won't happen around here now. Maybe you shouldn't come in a night anymo-"

"I'm a big girl, Forrest," she interrupted him with a gentle murmur. Looping her arms around his sore shoulders, she hugged him lightly, his face pressing into her chest. "You just take care of yourself and I'll be happy."

"I don't care if you're happy," he mumbled. "I care if you're safe."

"Well, then, I don't care if you're happy either."

A smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. "You know that ain't what I meant." Drawing back, Forrest kissed her lips, then the tip of her nose and sighed. "Damn. First night and already folks actin' foolish."

"Honey, you're selling illegal liquor to a bunch of half-cracked, backwoods hillbillies. What exactly did you think was gonna happen?"

Once the broken glass was swept up, the chairs and tables righted, the radio turned back on, the restaurant livened back up and the sales commenced once again. About half an hour later, a fresh set of headlights pulled into the front lot and Everett stepped out onto the porch. He pointed 'round the side of the restaurant. "You wanna pull around back?"

Wendell P. Lanoux clamored from the truck, slamming the door and waggling a finger at Everett. "I'm not here for no damn liquor! Where's Duey Ray?"

Everett poked his head back inside The County Line. He whistled at Hal, jerking his head toward the parking lot. "We got some visitors."

Wendell and two of his buddies staked across the parking lot, kicking up dirt and kneeling down to inspect the faces of the dozen or so unconscious men. Just as one shouted, "I got Duey Ray!" The Bondurant brothers appeared at the edge of the lot, Tom and Danny on their heels.

"Now, hold up, Wendell!" shouted Forrest. "We didn't let Duey Ray come after you, we can't let you go after him. You understand?"

"I appreciate what you done, Forrest, but I can't keep runnin' no more. I've been hiding for two weeks! Two weeks, I been looking over my shoulder," cried Wendell. The borderline hysterical desperation in his voice was unmistakable.

Howard snorted, "That's what you get for sleeping with a woman whose husband you can't knock out with a frying pan."

Wendell licked his lips and shook his head pitifully. "Couldn't help myself. Eugenia and me, we're in love. She don't wanna be with him anymore. But he just won't take no for an answer." With that, Wendell directed his buddies to haul Duey Ray to his truck; they'd take him up west to Thorton Mountain and kill him there. Away from all these witnesses.

"You seem to misunderstand me," said Forrest. "You ain't gone touch him. Not like this."

The tension in the lot was palpable. Faces pressed to the windows of The County Line, the patrons quickly sobering with curiosity and the prospect of another brawl. Forrest motioned Duey Ray's unconscious form. "You wanna take him, you got to at least give him a fighting chance."

"A fighting chance? Me fighting him is like a mosquito fighting a mountain lion!"

"Then be like a mosquito and fly away while you still can," advised Tom Cundiff.

Wendell's face grumbled. "I can't run no more."

"Then stay and fight," said Forrest softly. He, like Wendell, knew that there was no competition. Duey Ray would clobber Wendell. But his conscience couldn't stomach letting Wendell cart Duey Ray off to kill him, knowing _he _had been the one to render Duey Ray defenseless. "Yeah, alright. Let's wake him up."

Howard helped his little brother lug Duey Ray to the water pump. They cranked up the gasket, water spewing out the spicket immediately. When Duey Ray jolted awake under the gush of water, he came up swinging. Howard and Forrest dropped him, stepping away and allowing him to gather his senses. "The fuck?" he spat.

Forrest stuffed his hands in his pants' pockets. "Wendell's here," he said.

And then everything kinda went downhill from there.

* * *

**There you have it, folks, action - which seems very popular with you guys. The blood and guts crowd, huh? There should be more action in the next chapter, maybe a bit of family stuff. I don't know, yet. Still playing around with it, so we'll see. **

**Just an end note – someone asked why it takes so long between chapters. I'm a full time college student taking 17 credit hours. I also have a full time job. Now, for me writing isn't a just hobby, it's what I want to do. But usually during the week, updating my fanfiction stories just isn't as high a priority as work or school. So I'm sorry if it takes longer than you'd like. But, hey, it's called building suspense! So no worries. **

**Until next time, have a happy weekend! **


	24. Chapter 24

**Hey there! Can you believe it? Another chapter already! I'm so proud of myself. Holy cow. **

**Just a brief warning – there's a bit of racial tension in this one. It's very limited and nothing graphic or anything. Just a comment that's made. Heavy racial discrimination was a sad fact of this time and especially in the rural south. I promise, it's not meant to offend and I hope it doesn't. **

**That being said, like I promised, this one kinda has some action but based on feedback you guys wanted to see more family stuff **_so _**I decided to do a family scene where we get to see more soft Forrest. Because who doesn't love cuddly Forrest? **

**As always, my friends, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

The County Line Restaurant stood astride the line separating Franklin and Henry counties, just down off the western spur of Thorton Mountain. Frank Vaught was told it was a simple, country place with a wooden counter and stools in front of a grill, a few tables, and curtainless windows looking out onto a dirt lot. Most people in that part of the state knew it was a place where a man could sit and get a sandwich, a piece of ham or steak, corn bread, and a drink or two of decent mountain liquor. Supposedly, on a regular night for half a dollar the counterman would set you up with a quart of corn whiskey or brandy, good stuff. Not the heavily sugared rotgut they imported from Canada. Vaught heard it was the sort of establishment where a man could sit close to the box stove and listen to the radio for the whole afternoon as long as he didn't make any trouble. And, apparently, in the evenings men would play a few hands of cards at the tables and the owner, some hillbilly bumpkin by the name of Bondurant, held regular weekly games that ran late into the night, well after the restaurant closed.

But Vaught knew the real business at the County Line was late at night or early morning when small convoys of cars and trucks crowded the lot, men swinging crates full of mason jars. Some would head south, others east to Richmond or west to Tennessee. Mostly, they were country fellas with their muddy boots and sunburnt faces. But there were others, like Vaught, who wore long coats and crisp hats, speaking in clipped phrases, picking up the booze and headed for points north, like Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia.

The trees blurred as Vaught's car hummed along the dirt road toward the quaint restaurant in question, the spindly pines and chestnuts all green-gold as they sped passed. Vaught's pal Kelley was hunched over the steering wheel. He expertly led them over the little hills and around the sudden curves, a line of cars bumping along behind them. Kelley barked that they were approaching the restaurant and no sooner were the woods out of his mustached mouth did the trees part to reveal the modest building. It was not a high example of fine carpentry – the structure was plain, boxy, and finished roughly. The roof angled steeply over an upper story that jutted out in the front, providing a cover for the porch. Unlike most rural businesses, the porch held no chairs, no advertisements for anything. There wasn't even a name on the building, only an open sign propped in the front left window.

Vaught craned forward, peering out the windshield. "You sure this is the place?"

"Positive."

Four cars were parked in the front lot. A group of standing men lingered on the bare porch. They turned to watch as Vaught's caravan veered off the country road and into the lot. The haggard, country men stared at the newcomers with an insolent expression Vaught knew all too well. One that plainly said, _Mind your own fucking business. _

Skeptical, Vaught idled in the car a moment, Kelley's hand perched on the door handle. It wasn't until he saw the storage shed that Vaught knew they were indeed at the rumored County Line restaurant. The small shed sat slightly up the little hill that rose behind the restaurant. Unlike the main establishment, the secondary building had been well-made using chinked chestnut logs that would last forever, cross-tied and sealed with red-mud paste. A low riding Ford was parked just beside the open door. Then, a tall, broad shouldered man in his shirtsleeves and hat emerged from the building with a wooden crate in his arms. It seemed like his eyes locked directly onto Vaught's face. "Yeah, okay. This is it. Get the fellas."

The group of men on the porch said nothing as they passed, their faces wrinkled and withered with age, their teeth cracked and yellowed and browned, their knobby fingers curled at their sides, their coveralls stained with dirt and grease. The front room of the restaurant, the floor they called it, smelled like tobacco, burning wood stove, whiskey, oil lamps, soiled clothes, and boot leather. Drink and meal prices were posted on a chalk board above the counter. Vaught's nose wrinkled in distaste. He noticed that a few in his party had the same reaction; they were creatures of the city and its fancy hotel lobbies, oyster bars, back alleys, and lurking, gas-lit shadows. Here, they were entirely out of their element, slumming it in some one-horse hicktown. And for what? A couple'a gallons of liquor?

Vaught's lips curled over his teeth. Damn Prohibition. The government really screwed the pooch on this one. Sorry sack o'shits didn't think it through, not one bit.

"Can I help you with somethin'?"

Vaught turned to see a slant man with a round head and red cheeks bent over the counter wiping the bar's surface in circular strokes. Vaught sauntered forward, peeling down the brim of his hat. He resisted the urge to smooth down his mustache and called back, "I'm looking for a man named Bondurant."

Unbeknownst to Vaught and his crew, just sixty feet away, out on the back steps of the restaurant, Danny Mitchell thought he was having a heart attack. Having never experienced one before, Danny couldn't be sure but he'd heard men talk about having a heart attack and reckoned it felt something like this. His chest was seizing with a joyful pain. A good pain. A slow burning pain like picking off a scab or yanking out a splinter. He lipped the clear jar once more, the apple brandy pouring down his throat with a glorious sting.

"That shit right there's gone make us famous," he belched once he swallowed, sliding the jar across the step to Howard.

Howard caught the brandy easily. He took a sniff. Nostrils burning, he gave a grin; now _that _was quality. "Yeah, maybe."

"You know," hollered Tom Cundiff as he lugged another crate from the shed. "Y'all could help instead of sittin' around on your asses."

"Boy, we been here for two hours," retorted Danny. "Just cause you don't know how to get outta bed before noon…"

Tom gave a wild, implying grin. "It was a late night."

"Oh?" murmured Howard, good-naturedly. "What was his name?"

"Ha, ha. That's some funny shit, Bondurant," spat Tom sarcastically. They'd been lugging empty crates from the shed to Forrest's truck for the better part of the morning. A fresh batch of liquor was ready on the mountain, Gummy left to guard the product. But they had to get the crates and jars to the still to bottle up the mule before they could sell.

Forrest lumbered out of the shed behind Tom, muttering for him to move, and slung another three crates onto the bed of his truck. He dusted his hands off on his dunagrees and fished his keys out of his pocket. Tossing them to Howard, he parted his mouth to tell his older brother to go on without him; Ellie May was on her way to pick him up. They had to make a run to the feed store in town for Papa. But before Forrest could speak, there came a sudden commotion from the front of the restaurant.

"Aw, hell, what now?" rumbled Howard.

Seven slick lookin' men were crowded around the bar inside. One, a stout man with blonde hair and thin mustache, had Hal by the shirt collar, his arm reaching over the counter. Jefferson was at Hal's side, wooden club in hand, reared back like a baseball player gearing up for a homerun swing.

"What the fuck are you planning on doing with that, huh?" one of the strangers sneered, spitting at Jefferson's feet.

The dishwasher didn't flinch, or so much as blink an eye. He merely flexed his grip on the club and inched back a little further for greater leverage. "You don't let him go, you gone find out."

"That's enough, now," declared Forrest as he and his friends made themselves known. The blonde city slicker with his hands around Hal's throat smiled, thin and malicious. He released Hal and gestured Forrest with both hands, "You that Bondurant fella?"

Forrest said nothing.

The stranger's smile only grew and he took of his hat in a grand matter, swiping it around like he was directing a band. "Hey there. The name's Vaught. I'm, uh, a big fan, you could say."

"Oh, yeah?" Forrest grunted. "Fan of what?"

One of the other men, a slim man with a fat tie and heavily oiled hair, chuckled, "Whatta ya think?"

Howard's eyes narrowed. He hated folks from the city. This muted but passionate hatred for men in ill-fitted suits and fancy shoes had been infinitely worse before the war. A couple of city swells joined in his squadron while he'd been in France. At first they'd bitched about the weather and the sleeping conditions, the food, the lack of women. But as the war dragged on, they humbled and fell in line with the rest of the guys. Then, they weren't so bad. Those few men were exceptions, however, not the rule. And as a general rule, Howard still hated men from the city. He stepped forward to his brother's side. "You wanna clarify just what you mean?"

They had seen this before; once in a while someone came by the restaurant and tried to set up some kind of racket, usually some men from Roanoke or Richmond in suits and long coats and sometimes there was trouble but after a few incidents they stopped coming. Forrest's fingers itched toward the brass knuckles in his pocket. Looked like it was time for another incident.

Vaught shuffled back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Hey, whoa, calm down. We're just trying to make friends here. Everybody needs friends, don't they? You know, a little you scratch my back…I'll scratch your's-"

"Fella, I don't think anyone here wants you touchin' their back," sneered Howard.

"Enough of this shit," muttered one of the other men. He stepped forward, clapping a hand on Vaught's shoulder, "Look, we know you're running liquor. We know you keep it stored up in that shed there and we know you push it through this restaurant. We also know that your liquor is reaching as far as Detroit. And that's not good for us."

"Didn't realize we were concerned with what's good for you," said Danny over Forrest's shoulder. His brow furrowed. "Fact, we don't even know your name."

Vaught shook his head, clutching his hat dramatically to his chest. "How rude of me." He extended a thin, boney hand. "Like I said, the name's Frank Vaught and this here-" He nudged the man leaning on his shoulder. "-is my partner, Francis Keller."

"Frank and Francis, ain't that nice," rumbled Howard under his breath. The other man, Francis, puffed out his chest like a territorial animal, drawing in a sharp breath between his teeth, "Listen y-"

"You ain't from around here," Forrest said, swiftly cutting off the stranger and taking a step forward. "…so you don't know."

Vaught's grin wavered. His confidence in the fact that they could work this out smoothly seemed to dissipate but there was a firm resolve in his dark gaze. Forrest knew this bunch city slickers weren't going to turn and walk away, leave things be. He also knew that there were seven of them. Now, Forrest wouldn't feel right asking Hal or Jefferson to help 'em out, so that meant he, his brother, and their two companions were outnumber. Nevertheless, it was clear this man needed to be hit. He needed to be hit for openly stating what one didn't talk about in front of the law, total strangers, your family, anyone. Then again, they'd already replaced two chairs that month…

There came a low whizzing from the kitchen, the stove shorting out again. The smell of cooking grease wafted through the window behind the counter, Jefferson still poised at the mouth of the kitchen. Forrest glanced at Hal, saw the older man's nervous twitch. He looked at his brother, at Danny and Tommy. Then, he look a real slow breath, "Yeah, we don't have any damn liquor so unless you buying lunch, why don't you get the hell outta my restaurant?"

The Francis guy hardened his stare. Before he could retort, Vaught slapped his chest, silencing him. Vaught nodded, "Mhmm…heard you lot were some reasonable fellas. Guess I heard wrong. You don't want to make new friends, hey, no hair off my chest. But you mark my words. Your shit shows up in Detroit again, and it won't be just us you're hearing from."

"That a threat?" growled Tommy.

Vaught grinned. "Consider it a friendly warning."

* * *

"What's wrong with you?" Jack asked as Emmy and Ellie May returned from town. His baby sister was a bawling mess. Running inside and straight to her room, Emmy ignored her brother in favor of slamming the beddoor shut behind her. Jack was at the kitchen table, his school books scattered in front of him. He'd been working on some math equations all morning – the tough stuff. Ellie May trailed in after Emmy, two large brown paper sacks in her hand. Jack immediately jumped up, taking one of the bags from her. They took the groceries to the counter.

"Hey, what's she cryin' about?" prodded Jack impatiently.

Ellie May gave a dismissive reply. She waved Jack away, thanking him for helping her, but then shooing him out the door. It was time for him to tend to the animals. Jack backed up toward the door, then paused, "Yeah, but how come Emmy ain't doing her chores?"

"Don't you worry about her. Worry about you."

He persisted, "Is she sick?" Bringing his hand to his mouth, Jack began to cough, shaking his shoulders. He spoke in a broken voice. "You know, I think I might be sick too-"

"Emmy is fine and so are you right now, but if I have to tell you _one more time_-" Before Ellie May could finish, Jack was tucking his tail between his legs and scurrying out the back door. A shadow fell over the doorway a moment later. Forrest eyed the shut bedroom door, Emmy and Ellie May's bedroom door. He asked, "Everything alright. Jackie said Emmy's upset."

Rubbing her brow, Ellie May leaned against the kitchen counter. "When we were in town we ran into Willy Deshazo. He had Sissy and Horace with him so while I got what we needed, Emmy played with Sissy and Horace outside and apparently a few other kids were walking by…Forrest, she said they called her a nigger lover. Next thing I know she's crying her eyes out and wailing like somebody beat her. I can't get her to stop."

"I'll go talk to her," rumbled Forrest, crossing the kitchen to rap his knuckles softly on the door.

There came a faint shout from behind the closed door and Forrest called back softly. He paused, then pushed the door open and disappeared.

Ellie May waited for the screaming. Waited for Forrest to stumbled backwards out of the room, abashed. But when nothing occurred for several minutes, Ellie May turned her attention to the groceries. She unloaded the brown paper sacks, stuffing the pantry with lard, sugar, coffee, corn meal, and the like. When she was finished, she set about collecting the dirty laundry. One bundle of hand-washed bed sheets later Forrest had yet to emerge and the shouting had yet to commence. Ellie May's lips pursed. Her mind began concocting various scenarios of how the scene was unfolding behind the door. Maybe, instead of yelling at her older brother to mind his own business, Emmy's sobs had broken her and she'd fallen into an exhausted sleep. And sweet, tender Forrest, so loving and concerned, remained at her side, stroking her hair softly as she slept.

Her curiosity burning, Ellie May approached the door.

She pressed her ear to the wood, subconsciously holding her breath least the gentle sounds interfere with her hearing. She did this for no more than two seconds before her conscience kicked in and she realized she was being silly and nosey. Stepping away from their bedroom door, she shrieked, giving a little start when she bumped into Papa. The patriarch of the Bondurant family reached out as if to steady her. "Whoa. Sorry. Didn't mean to scare ya."

"Oh, no! You didn't! Well, you did, but I was ju-"

The bedroom door swung open, exposing a smirking Forrest. Ellie May shrunk under his knowing gaze. He knew she'd been listening. Shooting him a petty glance, she peered over his shoulder at Emmy. The little girl, arguably Ellie May's best friend, was perched on the edge of their bed, hands folded in her lap. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks wet, her nose running. She offered Ellie May a small, somewhat embarrassed smile.

Brushing passed Forrest, Ellie May took a seat beside Emmy. "I'm sorry," she sniffled.

Ellie May rubbed circles on her back. "You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"I shouldn't ha-"

"Sweetie, you're fine," Ellie May assured her. "Everybody has tough days."

Emmy hugged her, shoving her sticky face against Ellie May's dress. "Tomorrow," murmured the little girl, her voice muffled by Ellie May's chest. "Can we take Sissy and Horace to get some ice cream?"

Ellie May's gaze shifted to Forrest, who remained in the doorway. What on God's green earth had he said to his sister? Not an hour ago Emmy was cursing the very existence of the Deshazo family. After all, in Emmy's mind, it was their fault that she got called a nigger lover. And now she wanted to take them into town for a treat? But Forrest simply nodded, giving one of his nearly imperceptible smiles, before slinking down the hall and out the back door.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," conceded Ellie May. "Jack and Cricket can tag along, too. We can even call your Aunt Lucy and see if she'd like to go."

Ten minutes later, Emmy got busy doing her chores, the last of her tears behind her, and Ellie May watched, amazed, from the porch swing as the little girl went about collecting eggs in the chicken house as if nothing had happened. Her brow furrowed, her mouth hanging open, she shook her head. "Amazing."

Across the fields, Forrest stood, tossing something to his father four rows over. He followed Ellie May's line of sight before catching her gaze. Ellie May smiled at him, that silly, affection smile, and his heart thumped inside his chest. Smiling back, Forrest nodded at her and winked.

* * *

**Next chapter: as requested by the always lovely **Dasiygirl95**, Forrest takes Ellie May on a date! And trust me, it's a good one. **

**p.s. Can I just say that I love you all and I'm so thankful you like this story? I'm so glad you guys find it (at least somewhat) believable and that to the majority of readers it doesn't seem rushed. ****Also, I'm really, **_**really **_**stoked that you like Ellie May. That was one of my foremost concerns with this story. I knew there was going to be a huge Maggie/Forrest ship and I wasn't sure how people would react to an OC. Or if I could make that OC likable enough. So it's very exciting for me to know that you enjoy the pairing.**

**Seriously, I love you guys. Thanks so much for all the love and support. If I could, I'd totally hug you all.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Guys, this has not been my week. Last Tuesday an old man ran a traffic light and hit my car. The accident wasn't my fault, but I got a $179 ticket for an expired tag that I hadn't noticed. So for two days I was without a vehicle while his insurance company tried to fix my car and because I'm not 25 the rental company wouldn't rent me a car. Not fair. Then, his insurance calls and tells me that the damage to my car was too drastic to repair so I was out of a car. Now, because my car had such high gas mileage and because it was such an older model (it was a 2000 Toyota Camry), they were only willing to give me $2,500. **

**No car. No rental car. $2,500. What? **

**I just spent the last week hunting down cars all over the freaking state. Do you know how hard it is trying to find a decent car for less than three grand? It's not easy! I ended up having to call out of work and missed a week's worth of classes because we literally spent ALL DAY trying to find a car EVERYDAY last week. **_**We**_** being my mother and me, on account of she was having to dry me around since I had no transportation whatsoever. It was so awful, you guys. **

**Then, on top of that, I ended up getting strep throat Thursday. Like I said, not my week. **

**I finally found a car Saturday. It's a 2000 Nissan that's in good condition but I ended up paying an extra $600 out of pocket to get it. So now, instead of trying to catch up on my classes, I decided to reward myself on not murdering someone this past week by writing some lovely Ellie/Forrest fluff. **

**Here it is, the date you've all been waiting for! Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

Time was passing quicker than anyone realized. The children were growing, becoming young adults, stretching into awkward, adolescent bodies. Lucy and Howard were still desperately trying to conceive a child while profits continued to pour in from the still on Turkey Cock Mountain, The County Line churning out whiskey by the gallon. The winter of 1926 was the driest winter Franklin County had weathered since before the Civil War. The county and her surrounding areas hadn't seen a single drop of rain in nearly four months and by February of the following year the land had become so dry that nearly every crop died, the soil shriveling up, useless. Lack of moisture in the mountains caused a heat wave so outrageous that all across the county creeks ran dry, lakes virtually disappearing overnight. The air was tense, thick, the sun's constant, unforgiving rays only adding to the unbearable temperatures. A lotta folks tried to hide from the heat indoors, sheltered from the sun's unyielding power. But then, a crowded room packed with bodies wasn't much better, now was it?

Ellie May seemed to be the only one that got this notion and one afternoon she slipped out back away from the commotion of her family. She dropped onto the porch swing, yanking up the folds of her dress, pooling the pale blue around her hips and waist. The sweltering heat nearly took her breath away but she didn't think she'd last another minute inside that house. Not with Howard and Cricket arguing about the best way to replace the catalytic somethin' or other on the truck. Not with Emmy singing nonstop in the corner to distract herself from the heat. Not with t-

She heard the back door swing wide but didn't bother to open her eyes. She'd finally managed to get comfortable on the swing, her head tilted back, face toward the porch's ceiling, eyes firmly shut. Finally, the blistering heat had become manageable. Besides, she didn't need to look to know that it was Forrest joining her. No one else would've dared. It wasn't that Ellie May had a temper, necessarily. More like she was a real no-nonsense kinda gal who didn't like to be bother, especially if she was already flustered. And well, who knew that better than her family?

Beads of sweat began to prickle her skin, rising over the swell of her breasts and trickling down the valley between them. She could feel it seeping through her clothes, feel it pooling in the corners of her eyes and in the crease of her forehead. "Damn heat," she hissed, furiously wiping the sweat off her face. Forrest had sauntered down the back steps and was standing in the yard, leaning against the porch railing. He shot her a weary smile. His face slick with a sheen of sweat much like her own. She pinned him with a grim stare. "You ever seen a better day to go swimming? Oh, wait, all the creeks have dried up."

Forrest said nothing but watched her. Amused. Her gaze narrowed. "This is horseshit. This _heat _is horse_shit_. I can't take it, Forrest. I'm gonna melt away!"

"You ain't gone melt," he laughed.

"Oh yeah? Just watch."

Forrest pushed himself off the railing and lifted his hand to her. "Think you can hold off on melting for just a little while? I was thinking I'd like to take you to lunch."

Ellie May groaned. "Lunch? I don't wanna go to Rocky Mount. It's too hot to move, much less go all the way to town."

Forrest quirked a brow. "Now who said anything about going to town?"

That's when she noticed the small basket in his hand. Despite her irritated mood, a smile twitched Ellie May's lips and she rolled her eyes at her hopelessly romantic boy. Who was she to refuse such a simple, kind gesture? Pushing through the hotter-than-hot heat, she rose and slipped her hand in his. Their hands were equally sweaty and as their fingers threading together, Ellie May realized she didn't too much care if his hand was sweaty or not. She was going to hold his hand, drought and heat be damned.

They took a short, easy walk through the woods over dead tufts of Johnson grass and weeds. Dirt from the dry land caked their feet and ankles by the time they reached their destination. Just up the mountain, about a half mile from where their mother and sisters were buried, a large limestone slab jutted from the earth, a nature provided picnic table. Forrest spread an ancient quilt over the rock knowing that the heat absorbed on the limestone's surface would've scorched Ellie May's bare legs. Once he'd set the blanket, his companion collapsed onto the smooth slab. Warmth soaked through the patchwork quilt instantly, baking her on both sides. She laid there listening to the still world around them as Forrest unpacked the secret contents of the basket. Squinting from the harsh sun, Ellie May studied him silently, mesmerized by the graceful, swift, and deliberate movements of his large hands as he set out their lunch. "What's this all about, Forrest? Are you trying to butter me up for bad news?"

He didn't bother to spare her a look, but grinned as he answered, "No bad news. Just thought we'd have lunch, is all."

"Mhmm." She remained unconvinced.

They took their time enjoying the meal, splayed across the rock. Forrest had prepared fat slices of honeyed ham smothered in a maple glaze. He'd also whipped together some heavily peppered mashed potatoes, a favorite of Ellie May, and a pan of sweet cornbread. Since the drought, many cold fruits had become scare throughout Franklin. As a small surprise, Forrest managed to snag a fresh watermelon off a buyer from Georgia who came through the restaurant the week before. The bright pink wedges looked like heaven to the sweltering duo.

He allowed Ellie May the first bite. The watermelon was sickeningly sweet, a delicious, cool burst. Ellie May forced herself to stifle a moan. God, she'd missed fruit. Juice from the watermelon trickled passed her lips and down her chin. With her free hand, she moved to wipe it away but long fingers wrapped around her wrist. Forrest lowered his mouth to her slick chin and throat, kissing and licking the juice off her skin. The sweetness of the fruit mixed with the saltiness of her sweat was a strange combination on Forrest's tongue. Licking his own lips, he captured her mouth in a quick kiss.

Ellie May brought the watermelon slice to his lips when they parted, an offering. He sank his teeth into the soft, pink fruit and, just like when Ellie May took a bite, juice bubbled up and out, dripping down her fingers and arm. Forrest licked them clean, too. This pattern of biting and licking continued until all that remained of the watermelon was the raw, green shell.

Tossing away the unwanted food for animal scraps, they wrapped their dirty plates and forks and placed them back in the basket. But they didn't immediately return to the farm. For a while they laid on the limestone slab, hands tightly clasped between them, their hot sides pressed together. They watched the fluffy, white clouds roll slowly across the sky. They found shapes in the clouds – a bunny rabbit, a pair of feet, a leaf, a tea kettle. Well, _she _found shapes. Forrest just watched. After a while a few of the clouds started to darken, a hazy sort of gray.

"See that dark one over there?" Ellie May pointed towards the north. "Looks like Howard, don't you think?"

Forrest smirked. Actually, the dark cloud resembled a bear cub but he guessed that was her point. "Lotta clouds getting dark. Maybe we'll finally get some rain."

"Pray hard," she replied, staring at the darkness looming in the distance. If they didn't get some rain soon, Papa's farm was gonna be in a hard way. Another cloud drifted by and caught Ellie May's attention. She gave a soft smile and squeezed Forrest's hand. "Look. A baby."

He spotted the baby-shaped fluff the moment the words left her mouth. "Yeah, I see it," he said. His gaze shifted to the woman lying beside him and he found the sight of her little grin far more charming than any infants in the sky. Suddenly, Forrest was drowning in a sea of images: Ellie May cuddling a snoozing baby to her chest; a child's tiny fingers wrapped around his own; a string of incoherent baby-babbles; a pair of wide, innocent, curious eyes. Their child's eyes. His and Ellie May's. Just the thought of Ellie May bearing his children was enough to send his chest seizing, his pulse racing.

Forrest knew, suddenly, that the greatest thing he would ever do in life would be to give Ellie May children of her own. She deserved nothing less. He saw the way she was with his younger siblings – her affection for them had always warmed his heart – and he'd felt firsthand the strength and power of her tenderness and love. Ellie May would be a great mother, of this he was sure.

And then he was reminded of why he'd brought her out for lunch in the first place.

"What're you thinking about so hard?" She was abruptly in his line of sight blocking the sky and clouds above. Propped up on her elbow, she hovered over him, hair cascading over her shoulders to frame his face. Curious, Ellie May poked playfully at the concentrated crease in his brow. "Something bothering you?"

Forrest smoothed his brow and reached up to twirl a lock of her hair. Ellie May chuckled quietly and lowered her face to his. She rubbed her nose back and forth across his own, an _eskimo kiss_ Emmy called it. "You're always so damn fascinated with my hair."

Forrest grinned, the silky-smooth brunette strands slipping through his fingers. "I like it. S'nice."

"Oh, well, thank you very much, Mr. Bondurant." Ellie May placed a swift kiss on the tip of his nose and hopped of the rock. Slipping off her shoes, she took to the dead patches of grass. The short, dry blades lay mostly flat. They tickled the soles of her bare feet.

"Whatchu doin'?" called Forrest. Though he lay still, his eyes watched her every movement. Baking on the rock, they'd both become drenched in sweat and the wetness of her skin was causing her dress to cling to her body. The outline of her soft curves beckoned him but he resisted, enjoying watching her play in the grass.

"I'm hunting."

There came a humorous scoff from his spot on the limestone. "You don't say. And just what are you hunting? A ladybug…or maybe a butterfly?"

"I'll have you know, mister, that I am a champion firefly hunter and I have the jar to prove it-"

"An empty jar," he teased, but Ellie May continued, unperturbed, "But I'm hunting something far more difficult to find right now. I'm on the quest to find a four leaf clover. I've never found one before and I figured we could use some luck around here."

"Whatta we need luck for?"

She snorted, scanning the ground for the small, green clover. "I do believe that question was rhetorical. What're you still lying there for? Come help!"

Forrest protested half-heartedly, a series of quick murmurs and low grunts, before climbing down off the rock. "This is pointless."

"Then why are you helping?"

He fought a grin. "Cause I'm afraid."

Ellie May stopped short and shot him an incredulous look. "Afraid of what? Last I heard, you weren't afraid of anything. Not even death."

Forrest laughed. Yeah, he'd heard that, too. The rumor mill of the backwoods had been going ninety-to-nothin' since this Prohibition mess started; and it was bad enough _before._ It was mostly straight gossip, but he supposed there was some element of truth to the whispers. There were certain lengths he and his brother were willing to go to take care of and protect what was theirs. Seemed like folks were finally starting to get that. "I'm afraid of what'll happen to me if I _don't _help," he answered her. "Though I don't know why we're looking. There's nothing here but dead dandelions and weeds."

"Don't be such a Debby Downer. We'll find one," Ellie May insisted, poking at a tuff of grass with her toe.

But, unfortunately, Forrest was right and after half an hour of searching, they came up empty-handed. The pair returned to the rock, the sun now hanging low in the sky, and Forrest retrieved a worn copy of the Bible from within the confines of the picnic basket. He'd wrapped the King James in a cloth to keep any food or crumbs from getting on it and used the cloth to wipe his sweaty hands before opening the front cover. Ripped bits of paper stuck out the top of the Bible – makeshift page markers. Forrest thumbed through until he reached one of the markers.

"Do you remember when I was in the hospital and you and Jack would read to me?"

Ellie May said that she did and Forrest looked at her, _really _looked at her, and sheepishly asked, "Would you read to me again?"

He told her that he'd marked several of his favorite passages, that he thought she might enjoy them, too. Mostly, they were one or two lines of scripture - a quaint saying, a wise proverb. She didn't have to read long if she didn't want to, he explained, but he confessed that he loved listening to her voice. The gentle lilt to her words, the soft flow of her easy speaking, it soothed him in a way. Made his world calm despite the semi-permanent chaos of his life.

Her heart fluttering, Ellie May agreed.

She took the Bible from him and laid it across her left thigh, her back against the base of the mountain. Forrest lay down beside her. He propped his head on her right thigh and watched her lips form each word as she read. "Psalm 63:3 – Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you."

It was the page he'd turned to, the first lines he'd wanted her to read, and they sent her soaring. The words were in reference to the love of the Lord but could Forrest have possibly meant for her to read it in the context of their relationship? Was _her_ love so steadfast, so better than life, that he would praise _her_?

She flipped to another marked page. "1 John 4:18-19 - There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because He first loved us."

And then another. "Solomon 8:6 - Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame."

As she read the marked scripture, she wove her fingers through Forrest's short hair, massaging his scalp, and reflected internally on their meaning. They were all passages about love. About God's love for us. About our love for one another. Forrest's message was certainly not subtle, but tastefully done. The carefully chosen lines sent her heart hammering, a swarm of butterflies erupting in her stomach. She knew that if she were standing, she would've grown dizzy or faint.

She didn't dare look at Forrest as she read. She knew that if she did, she would become lost to him, content to disappear in his adoring gaze. Or worse. Perhaps she'd cry at the implied proclamations of love he'd purposely asked her to read.

Finally, Ellie May turned to the last passage, "Ephesians 5:25 – Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her."

Husbands. Wives. She froze.

Forrest's hand was on hers, lifting the Bible from her lap. His thumb stroked across her knuckles. "Do you know what day it is?"

Ellie May blinked and then swallowed, her throat dry but not from the blistering weather. "It's the nineteenth."

"Do you know what a month from today is?" He asked the question calmly, simply. But there was a very serious manner about him, lurking just beneath the surface. He seemed excited to hear her answer.

She bit her bottom lip. A month would be March nineteenth. March. March _nineteenth _– Emmy's fourteenth birthday. She sucked in a quick breath, gaze growing wide. Forrest's lips spread into a wide grin and he cupped her face in his warm hands. "Ellie, you know I love you with everything I am. You know that there is nothing I wouldn't do to protect you, or to take care of you, or to give you what you need."

She covered his hands with her own, mirroring his smile. They leaned close, their foreheads not quite touching. Forrest caressed her cheeks as he tried to articulate his feelings for her. "Ellie, if you'll let me, I promise I will love you for the rest of my life. I promise that I will make you happy, that you'll want for nothing. We can get a place of our own…fill it will children…"

Her smile grew, her clutch on him tightening.

"We can grow old together. I want to be with you always, to love you and t-" The words caught in his throat, the force of his love too much. He couldn't finish. His throat had grown thick, his eyes moist, as he pictured their future together. This was _so _right. This was what they were meant to do. He knew it. He felt it in his heart.

Forrest looked at her, desperately trying to convey this, but he didn't have to try. Because she knew it, too. Ellie May couldn't think of a more perfect way to spend her life. After all, hadn't this been their plan all along? To be together forever in love? She bit her lip. "Is there a question somewhere in there, Forrest?"

A bashful expression consumed him. He grinned and kissed her, his lips just barely grazing her own. It was a whisper, a promise. "Ellie May, will you marry me and be my wife?"

Ellie May felt the familiar sting of tears beginning to prick at her eyes. Pure joy lacerated her heart. She felt that at any moment she would burst from the perfectness of this moment and of the man before her. The man that she adored and loved so deeply and who adored and loved her in return. But before she could speak, she felt something hit her head. She flinched from the minor impact and glanced up. Something else hit her head as she did so, and then something hit her cheek, and then her eye. She blinked rapidly and heard Forrest's booming laughter. Lifting a hand to her face, she wiped away water. _Rain _water. It was raining.

One drop fell. Then, three more. Then, two. Then, five and six and seven all at the same time. And suddenly they were under a massive haze of dark clouds, the sun disappearing on the horizon, caught in a torrential downpour. Forrest had proposed and the heavens opened up. The drought was over.

Laughing, they abandoned their limestone slab to bask in the rain. They were instantly soaked, their grateful laughter dying in the wind. Ellie May reached for Forrest and he hugged her, lifting and twirling her in the rain. She kissed him, arms coiling around his neck, until they couldn't breathe, their lips puffy and red. "I love you, Forrest. I love you so much that sometimes I don't know what to do with myself. Yes."

Forrest beamed. His grip tightened around her. "Yes?"

"Absolutely, yes."

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**I hope you enjoyed it, my friends. **


	26. Chapter 26

**Hey everyone! Quick question – I've noticed that less and less people are reviewing. Now, this isn't me trying to sound whiny, I just want to know why. Don't get me wrong, there are a large number of you who still review and I love you all dearly! However, for those who've stopped reviewing, or maybe even stopped reading, I want to fix whatever had turned you off of the story. Is the story taking turns readers don't like? Is it the progression of the characters? What's wrong? **

**So if you guys could just let me know what you'd like to see different, that would be splendid and hopefully we can meet somewhere in the middle that will please everyone. Now, on to the good stuff…**

**SPOILER: The first half of this chapter is Ellie May and Forrest's wedding. And then, the second half is pretty much just them having sex. **_**So **_**for those who aren't fans of a little lemon, I suggest skipping the latter section of this chapter. Just know that I tried to write it very tastefully. It's nothing too graphic but not just fluff either. I know you all enjoy the fluff but I'm also aware that there comes a point where fluff is no longer enough. Guess Ellie and Forrest finally reached that point. **

**That being said, I hope this chapter lives up to everyone's standards. If not…well, too bad. Enjoy it anyway!**

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Chapter Twenty-Five

Forrest and Ellie May were wed in Snow Creek Baptist, the same church where Howard and Lucy were married, and their parents before them. It was a modest, but genuine affair. A humble exchange of everlasting vows and promises and tender proclamations of love. Papa was there in the front pew with Emmy, Jack, Cricket, Howard, and Lucy. Behind them sat Hal, his wife Caroline, and their little boy, Samuel. Across from Hal and his family were Danny, Tom, and Everett. The day waitress from The County Line, Abigail, sat behind Papa and the children, with her three youngin's. And in the third row sat the entire Deshazo clan, faithful neighbors and good friends.

There was no music, no fancy flowers or frills, just Ellie May in a nice, white dress, and Forrest in a pressed suit. When the couple announced their engagement to the family, Papa Bondurant had proudly offered to walk her down the aisle. And he did. It was such a kind, humble gesture that before Ellie May even made it to the altar she was in tears. She felt faint, thought for sure that she would slip or trip on her flowing dress skirt; but the moment her hands slipped in to Forrest's, her breathing calmed, her body at peace, and all was suddenly right with the world.

Reverend Talbot said a few introductory words, calling witness to God, before instructing Forrest to being with his vows.

For the first time in his life, Forrest was not at a loss for words. He did not find his mind reaching or searching for the right thing to say. He didn't stumble over his own tongue and its inadequacy. Ellie May had given him the gift of true love and the proper tools to express it.

Forrest clasped the delicate hands of the woman he loved. Today, her dark hair was pulled back from her face and as she smiled up at him with an excited nervousness, he felt remarkably calm. He cleared his throat, licked his lips, and began to pledge his vows with a large smile, "Today, I declare my love for you, Ellie May, in front of our closest family and friends as I invite you to share my life. You are the most beautiful, generous, and loving person I have ever known, and I promise always to respect you and to love you more than anything on this earth."

As he spoke, a pair of tears spilled over and ran down Ellie May's left cheek. Forrest lifted his hand to her face and gently brushed the tears away before he continued. "With kindness, selflessness, and trust, I will work by your side to create a wonderful life together. And I promise to love you until my dying day, with all I have to give and all that I am, in the only way I know how - completely and forever."

When he finished, he took the ring from his pocket, the gold band twinkling in the sunlight from the stained glass windows like a firefly in the night. He lifted her trembling hand and poised the ring over her left, ring finger. Forrest found that he could not wipe the smile from his face, nor did he find any embarrassment in proclaiming all of this before others. His love and affection for Ellie May was so pure in even its simplest form and it was nothing to be ashamed of. Carefully gliding the ring over her finger, he said, "This ring I give to you as a token of my love and devotion to you. I pledge to you all that I am and all that I will ever be as your husband and friend. With this ring, I gladly marry you and join my life to yours."

Reverend Talbot smiled softly at the bride. "Ellie May, if you would like to share your vows."

She nodded slightly, a barely-there tilt of the head. Squeezing Forrest's hands, Ellie May took a deep breath. Her chin began to quiver as the whole of her feelings for the wonderful man before her fought for space within her chest. How could she ever say how much she loved him? How could she ever put it into words? Nearly choking on her emotions, Ellie May sniffled, willing away her tears, and began with a gentle grin, "Forrest, today I become your wife and you become my husband."

Forrest grinned at her words and she almost bit her bottom lip. Another deep breath. She continued, "Forrest, I promise to love you without reservation, comfort you in times of distress, laugh and cry with you, always be open and honest with you, and to cherish you for the rest of my life. Together we will create a home, becoming a part of one another. I vow to help create a life that we can treasure and to grow old by your side as your love and best friend. This is my solemn vow."

Standing in the pew, Howard dug Forrest's ring out of his pocket and handed it to Ellie May. There was a red tint in his eyes as he did so and when their fingers brushed, the ring falling into her open palm, Ellie May smiled warmly at Howard through her tears and damned if he didn't grin right back. Though they were often at odds, the relationship between Ellie May and Howard was one only they could truly understand. They loved one another as siblings did but there was a brutal honesty at the root of it. A harsh truth formed by hardship. And they were both very glad to see this union coming to pass. Howard would get another sister, and Ellie May a great, big brother.

Her hands shaking, she lifted the ring to Forrest's left hand. Again, they beamed at one another, almost child-like in their happiness. Ellie May spoke softly, "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness, as a symbol of all that we have promised and all that we shall share. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you with the hopes that you will wear it and think of me and know that I love you."

With their vows and rings exchanged, the reverend said a few closing words, and, when after all was silent, pronounced them husband and wife. They shared a pair of goofy grins, the reverend's words echoing in their ears. There came a roar of laughter, of joyful shouts and clapping, a wolf-whistle from Tom or Danny. And they did as all brides and grooms do - they kissed and felt the world slip off its axis, felt the ground shift, felt the stars and moon and planets and sun align. All of this because of a single, everlasting promise sealed together by a single, extraordinary kiss.

"I love you," Forrest whispered against her mouth as their family crowded around them. Ellie May squeezed his neck, her face so drenched in her own tears she thought herself swimming, and she whispered the words back.

The ceremony now over, the newlywed couple was ushered back to the restaurant where a fat spread of delicious country cooking awaited. Lucy and Ellie May had been slaving away in the kitchen for days, with Emmy's helping hand of course. They ate among their family and friends and shared a small cake. Toasts were made and drinks had. Jokes were told, quaint marriage anecdotes mostly, and both Forrest and Ellie May knew they had never been happier in their entire life. All throughout the celebratory ruckus, Forrest did not relinquish Ellie May's hand and her eyes frequently glanced upon him. Damned if they weren't two kids in love.

They'd had a mid-day wedding and as the sunset grew near they were greeted with a light, evening shower. Their guests slowly began to disperse, eager to head home before the rain worsened. It was nightfall before they were alone and when the front door closed tight behind the last to leave, Forrest kissed Ellie May and announced, "I have something to show you."

In the months leading up to the humble wedding, Forrest busied himself preparing the upstairs of The County Line. This he intended to make their home. The upstairs apartment had three rooms and a narrow water closet with working plumbing. Forrest set it up with some old furniture, castoffs mostly, unwanted pieces he stumbled upon here and there. He put an iron-framed bed in what would be their room, along with most of the decent furniture. He'd also mounted an oval mirror on the back of a chest of drawers made of stained black walnut that his grandfather built. In the other room, he put a straw-tick cot, for Howard or Danny or anyone else who might need the occasional place to stay. The third room became a sitting room of sorts. There was a lumpy old couch covered with a sheet that faced the front window overlooking the road and in the corner a small table that held only a radio and a candle.

Ellie May knew nothing of the repairs made to the upstairs and when Forrest revealed them to her, the pure happiness of the moment was captured easily on her face. Finally, they had a place all their own.

They took a quick tour of their new home and came to rest on the couch in the sitting room. The radio played softly in the corner, music from another time, blending with the steady rhythm of the rain. The warmth of the room was cocoon-like. In that moment, Ellie May felt that nothing else existed in the world, just her and Forrest, the radio and the rain. Then, the song changed and a new melody wafted through the speakers. Ellie May's heart thumped as she recognized the soft tune of Irvin Berlin's "You'd Be Surprised."

She glanced at Forrest, her new husband. "Do you remember…?"

The crinkled smile at the edges of his lips and eyes told her that he did indeed remember. This was the very song that played that afternoon in Rocky Mount when Forrest drove Ellie May home from the hospital all those many years ago. Would anyone have ever thought back then that _this _was where they would end up?

"Will you dance with me?" she finally asked.

Forrest replied with his famous ghost of a grin. "Sure."

He rose from the couch and gently helped her up. She stood, her legs feeling shaky as they moved toward the center of the small room. The music seemed to fill the room with longing, and for a moment neither of them knew what to do. She waited, watching as he turned to her, his face unreadable. Finally, placing a hand on her hip, he drew her closer. Their bodies came together then and she leaned into him, feeling the safe solidness of his chest as his arm circled her waist. Ever so slowly, they began to turn and sway.

He felt so good to her. She breathed in the familiar smell of him, the mixed scents of the earth and honey and Virginia. She could feel the taut plane of his stomach, the packed muscle, and she could feel his legs against hers as they slowly danced. Closing her eyes, Ellie May laid her head on his shoulder, suddenly flooded with desire. She trembled in his grasp.

The song ended but they continued to hold each other as the broadcast continued. As they moved in slow circles about the sitting room, his fingers tugged loose the ribbon in her hair until the soft, dark tendrils fell free around her face. Forrest tangled his hand in her hair, cradling her to him. His breath was hot on her neck and she heard him exhale deeply. His lips grazed her neck first, the soft flesh beckoning him. Then, Forrest's lips gently brushed her cheek and she strained toward the butterfly touch.

When their mouths finally met, they kissed hesitantly, the pressure of the moment building. So much had led to this. Would it be all they had hoped, dreamed, and desired? The power of their kiss quickly grew, a passionate fire brewing between them. Ellie May could feel his hands on her, all of her, and, when they separated for air, she was conscious only of how long she had ached for this. Ached for him. She stared at him through half-lidded eyes. God, how she wanted this. Wanted him in every way possible. She could feel his desire as well, and with a movement that seemed almost preordained, she kissed him once more before leading him to the bedroom.

The back of her legs hit the edge of the iron-framed bed and she clasped tightly at Forrest's shirt to steady herself. Forrest stroked her arms tenderly, pressed feathered kissed into her hair and across her temple. This was it. He was finally going to claim her and make her his. He was going to relish in every inch of her flesh and bring her pleasure she'd never known. Cupping her chin, he tilted her face toward his own. What he saw in her expression was enough to tell him that she was feeling exactly the same way. He could feel her heated breaths as he brushed his lips against hers once and then twice before finally meeting them for good.

Burying his hands in her hair, he kissed her with everything he had, everything he wanted to be. He heard a soft murmur of contentment as he slid his arms around her. He opened her mouth slightly and felt her tongue against his. He loved the taste of her. He kissed her cheek and her neck, nibbling softly, then kissed her lips again. His hand grazed her leg, lifting the hem of her white wedding dress. When his lips left her mouth, Ellie May whimpered pitifully at the loss of contact only to gasp as she realized his intentions.

His mouth crawled down her body. Ellie May was tormented with lust as she watched him vanish into the many folds of her dress. Still, she could feel him. Feel his whiskers scraping against her thigh as he trailed a hot line of kisses up the inside of her leg until he reached the part of her that ached for him. She moaned the instant his lips and tongue found that spot. Furiously biting her bottom lip, she surrendered herself to the pleasure he gave her. It was blinding and exhilarating. And when she came, she cried out, her hands splaying across his shoulders.

He felt her body quiver with pleasure again and again. Felt the satisfaction that came with knowing he was the one who'd brought her such bliss. Forrest rested his forehead against her lower belly as he calmed himself. Licking his lips, he peered up at the woman he loved. His large hand wrapping around the back of her thigh, his chest swelled as he listened to her contented purring. He rose to his full height, murmuring softly. "You are so beautiful, Ellie May."

She couldn't find it within herself to respond to his adoring declaration. She was completely captivated by the look of tenderness on Forrest's face. No one had ever looked at her like this. Forrest buried his lips against her throat and made about unfastening her dress.

Though Ellie May had been naked with another man before, she had never been willing. Not like she was now with Forrest. Cradling the back of his head, Ellie May gently raked her fingers through his hair and drew their faces together. She nipped at his lips, dragged the tip of her nose across his cheek. Their eyes met and she stroked her thumb over the rise of his cheek. She hated to bring this up, especially now, in a moment so perfect, but she didn't want him to be taken by surprise or worse - disappointed. "Forrest," she whispered. "You know that I'm not…that I won't-"

_Bleed_, she almost said but the word became caught in her throat. Her father had taken her virginity from her in a drunken rage and now she was tainted. The thought pained her and her chin began to quiver. She wanted to be everything for Forrest, wanted to give him that which so many women held so dear, but she simply couldn't.

Forrest nodded lightly, despite the tightening in his chest. He hated her father with a muted, slow rage for what he'd done to Ellie May, what he'd viciously stolen. But that rage, in no way, made Ellie May any less in Forrest's eyes. He tried to be as gentle as possible, kissing away her unnecessary fears. His lips traced the faint scar that ran across the top of her left cheek, the only reminder of her father's vicious assault that night. Gripping her dress, Forrest continued to pepper sweet kissing across her face, asking quietly, "Do you want me to stop?"

Ellie May shook her head. "Please, don't."

With an excruciating slowness, Forrest slid the dress from his wife's body until she was bare to him. His heart stopped at the sight of her. She was beautiful. All soft curves and luscious, female glory. She'd grown so much over the years and now possessed the body of a woman. A gorgeous woman. Forrest made no move to remove his own clothes but tenderly coaxed her onto the bed. Ellie May fell back onto the stiff mattress, pulling him with her. He hovered over her with a gaze so full of love that she felt she might burst from the extremity of it. He dipped his head down to hers and she shivered as only their lips met. Then, with a tantalizing slowness, he deepened the kiss and lowered himself down on top of her body until his weight pressed against her.

A simple but lustful sigh fell passed her lips. The sensation of his body on hers was incredible. She could feel his hips against her stomach, feel the solid strength of his chest and shoulders. There was just so much of him. She reveled in the way he surrounded her naked body with unyielding warmth and love. She ran her hands over his perfect back, feeling his muscles contract and tense beneath his shirt. Her delicate fingers trailed over him, reaching around the front to flick open the buttons of his shirt one by one. As she did so, his mouth peppered wet, hot kisses down her neck and over the round tops of her breasts. He suckled her, his tongue swirling over her soft skin. His efforts were rewarded by a delicious hitch in Ellie May's breath, her back arching forward into his touch.

As he continued his pursuit of her chest, Ellie May pushed the shirt from Forrest's shoulders and unclasped the suspenders from his pants before pushing them below his hips. Forrest sucked in a breath and held it as Ellie May unclothed him. His wife bit her lip in satisfaction as she freed him from his pants and under drawers. Finally, he was bare to her, too. And he was huge. Not that Ellie May was surprised. Her previous encounters with that bulge had given her some idea of its size, but this…

Time seemed suspended as they gaze at one another, completely vulnerable. For a good minute, it seemed neither of them could breathe for the swell of love they felt. Forrest was the first to move, his body aching for her so strongly that it was almost painful. He curled his arm beneath her head to support her. With his free hand, he reached down to cup her breast, his thumb stroking over the gentle mound of flesh. As he did so, he rubbed himself against her without entering.

Ellie May whimpered, her fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders. She affectionately whispered his name, the quiet call lost to the sounds of the rain outside. They exchanged sweet kisses and then hungry caresses before he finally took her. It hurt more than she'd expected it to but the pleasure far outweighed the pain. When she came for the second time, her orgasm was joined by one of his own. They came together, their hips thrusting in place, and were blinded by the ecstasy of it all. Nothing in the world had ever made them feel like this.

Eventually, they caught their breath and, when they did, Forrest placed a tender kiss on her shoulder while whispering his love for her. Her breasts grazed his chest as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She rolled them on the bed so that she was straddling his hips. His hands drifted down her back, cupping her bottom. Ellie May smiled at him lovingly, every part of her burning with life and passion. She had wondered many times what this moment would be like. How it would feel. But her imagination had nothing on this reality. Nothing on the beauty of feeling the restrained strength of Forrest lying under her. He was so hard and fierce and yet so gentle for her.

Ellie May gave Forrest time to recuperate, kissing her way across his chest and stomach, before she sank herself down on him. Moaning, she began to rock against him and the sight and sensation were more than Forrest could bear. He cupped her face in his massive hands and kissed her passionately an instant before he came with a force so strong it rendered him temporarily senseless. His wife met him a moment later, her toes curled, her head tossed back in abandon.

Afterward, she remained curled beneath his arm, her body coiled in contentment. She settled herself into his arms, burrowing into his chest and cuddling there like a kitten, their bodies still joined. She let out a deep, happy sigh as he caressed her arms and back. They talked and laughed and nuzzled late into the night, rain continuing to fall against the roof, and, after making love a third time, Forrest lay beside her, staring into her eyes before tenderly cupping her cheek. He felt the words rise up inside him, words he had spoken to her many times and every time meant them.

"I love you," he whispered, knowing the words were true in every way. He was hers and always would be.

Ellie May shivered under Forrest's intense stare. Her lips spread into a breathtaking smile. Placing her hand over his, she stroked her thumb across his knuckles and gave a loving squeeze. "I love you, too, Forrest Bondurant."

The rain lasted through the night and well on into the next morning. Ellie May woke just before noon. It was the first time she'd slept in since she was a little girl. It was also the first time she'd woken up naked. A scarlet blush consumed her, the skin of her chest, ears, and face burning bright as thoughts of her first night as Ellie May Bondurant filled her mind. Sex. What a wonderful, un-describable experience. No wonder so many people went crazy for it. Her body immediately began to stir at the mere memory of it. Smiling silly, Ellie May clutched the blanket to her bare chest and rolled over. Forrest was awake beside her.

He was gazing down at the ring on his left hand. His chest was bare and Ellie May took the moment to study the sculpted arms and packed muscle of the man she loved. She'd seen him shirtless several times before but now she held a much more intimate knowledge of that chest. She knew how the taunt skin tasted on her tongue. Knew what his heart beat sounded like as she fell asleep in his arms. Knew how hard she could claw at the thick muscle before her nails broke skin. Her blush deepened. She hoped there weren't bruises on his shoulder – the place where her hands had done most of their vicious work. Biting her lip, Ellie May tried to stifle some of her giddy happiness. She didn't want Forrest to think she was being childish.

"Good morning," she murmured. Blinking himself from his daze, Forrest smiled softly down at her. She reached out to stroke his arm. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," he lied. Forrest had been awake for hours. His body rarely allowed him slumber passed sunrise. But he wasn't complaining. That morning he'd been content to lay by his wife's side and watch her sleep peacefully, reflecting on what was the best night of his life. While she'd slept, Forrest trailed his fingertips over the soft curve of her shoulder, down the luscious flesh of her side. He replayed their love-making over and over in his head. She'd been so tender and yet fierce in her own right. Every time she'd touched him, Forrest could feel her desire, feel the depth of her love for him, and it blew him away that she could love him so much.

Forrest had never been closer to anyone in his entire life and last night, he and Ellie May took that intimacy to a whole new level. Forrest now understood why the light in his father's eyes died with his mother. He could now grasp why his father became a shell of the person he once was. Knew the gravity of his loss, how the absence of his mother echoed in the crevices of his father's heart. That was what it meant to love a woman and love her with your entire being. That was how he loved Ellie May and when Ellie May opened her eyes to peer up at him through a sleepy haze, that forever gentle grin on her lips, it was almost more than Forrest could take.

Reaching over to stroke her cheek, Forrest asked, "Did you sleep well?"

She mirrored his soft smile, almost bashful. She leaned into his open palm like a kitten, nuzzling the rough callouses. "Very well, thank you. Though I have to say, you take up quite a bit more room than Emmy."

Forrest gave a quiet chuckle, lacing their fingers and bringing her hand to his mouth. He kissed the tops of her knuckles. "Sorry 'bout that."

She pressed her legs to his beneath the blankets. "I'm not."

And so, on the first morning of their marriage, they made love once more, not stopping until the sun set on Franklin County and the rain began again.

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**Disclaimer: It was very difficult for me to try and write the sex scene without feeling like I might offend someone. I tried to do so in a very tasteful manner but still tried to keep an air of smut for those of you who I know have been wanting to see more than a little fluff. So, I have a favorite author of mine, the wonderful **Sherrilyn Kenyon, **who writes the** Dark-Hunter** series. It's basically like 30 books about mythology and sex. They're set in modern day New Orleans and are pretty much my favorite collection ever. But, anyway, I wrote this scene after re-reading bits and pieces of her novel **Acheron**. So, I just thought I'd toss a disclaimer on here just in case.**

**Originally, I didn't plan on including the vows, or really including the ceremony at all. Many of us have been to weddings, or seen one on television or in a movie. So what was the point? But I googled weddings in the 1920's just to see if there were any traditions that I should know about and it really got me thinking, what would Forrest say? He would've had to have written his own vows, so what does Forrest Bondurant say to the woman he loves? And...so...yeah, I included the vows. I literally cried my eyes out writing this and I hope you did the same. But not in a bad way, in a happy way. **


	27. Chapter 27

**See the author's note at the end! It's very important! **

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Chapter Twenty-Six

The first few weeks of married life were a sort of contradiction for Ellie May and Forrest. Mornings and nights were spent in a state of simple and pure bliss, but their days were filled with a creeping sense of loss. They missed the farm. Missed Jack's busyness – his constant questions and comments. Missed the smell of the gentle growing tobacco and cabbage and honeysuckles. Missed late night discussions with Papa by the stove, pondering life and the world. And Ellie May _especially _missed Emmy.

Neither Forrest nor his new wife commented on this recently developed sense of loss. Instead, they were both often concocting excuses to go back. Ellie May forget her favorite quilt. Forrest needed to borrow a wood splitting ax. Papa was having a bon fire or a fish fry. Emmy needed this, Jack needed that. And so on they went. Nearly every day the newlyweds found their way back to the Bondurant farm, if only for an hour or two. Then, when their need for family was sated, they returned to The County Line and slipped back into the new glorious routine of married life.

Well, they slipped back into that happy, peaceful routine for a little while. Then, the last week in April arrived and the Bondurant men did what they do best – attract trouble.

It was nearing eleven o'clock when Forrest watched Howard come in with the crew from the sawmill grinning like a fool. The group of them were obnoxiously loud, their faces already askew with drink. They were mostly younger boys in mud-spattered coveralls, stained undershirts, who were lipping chewed cigar ends, their eyes bloodshot. When they reached into the pockets of their dungarees for their money, streams of sawdust spilled onto the floor. Behind the counter, Forrest saw Ellie May's lips purse and he fought a grin. His woman sure did hate sweeping.

The rowdy newcomers gathered around one of the large tables in the back and slapped crumpled wads of money onto the table. With a few whistles, they order a round of The County Line's finest and set about a game of stud poker. Howard observed them as the hand began but eventually slipped away to join his brother. "We gone make some money off them tonight," he announced with a shit-eating grin.

"It ain't right," muttered Forrest. Gettin' a man all boozed up just to swindle him. That wasn't how he worked. But Forrest knew most of the young fellas and knew, even if he tried to stop them from drinking and gambling, they wouldn't listen. Cause that's how most young men's brains work. Can't tell 'em nothing.

"I'm getting real tired of your morality shit," teased Howard, elbowing his brother. He waved at Ellie May to fetch him a glass of sweat tea.

Forrest had to keep from grinding his teeth, grumbling, "She's not your maid."

"Aw, she don't mind. Do you, sweetheart?" snickered Howard as Ellie May brought him a fresh glass of tea. She set it down on the table in front of him and shrugged, "Sure don't. I just hope you don't mind that I spit in it, is all."

Howard's face fell, his brother sniggering quietly beside him. "That ain't funny."

Ellie May smirked. "I beg to differ."

Before Howard could offer a retort, Hal called out another order from the kitchen and Ellie May skirted away. Pouting, he lifted the glass to inspect the contents and, only once he was sure she was joking about spitting in it, did he raise the rim to his lips. Forrest eyed his older brother, lips twitching, "Taste good?"

"Shut up."

As it was Saturday night, the restaurant was packed to the brim, bodies crowding every corner of the humble establishment. And it seemed that the only sober folks in the joint were the employees. Though Forrest was attempting to train his attention on the book-keeping for that month, he couldn't help but observe those around him. A few men sat at the bar, haggard and dog-eyed, cigarettes burning down to the knuckle, loosely clutching onto a mason jar with an inch of clear fluid at the bottom. The radio on the counter played a music broadcast from Wheeling, West Virginia, and a young man in hobnail boots and a stained overcoat rapped his fingers on the bar to the beat. A couple sat in the front window, the woman's arms draped around the man's neck, her lipstick smeared. Forrest reckoned most of these folks had nowhere else to go. The thought made him frown. How awful it must be to live a life so unfulfilling that you had to drown in your sorrows publicly.

A sudden knock brought Forrest's musings to an abrupt end. Everett was standing at the backdoor. He jerked his head swiftly to the back. Forrest nudged his brother. "C'mon. We got another sale."

"Shit." Howard ran a burly hand through his thick curls. "Danny and Tommy better hurry up. We gone run out before the night's over."

Their partners were up at the still, safely tucked away in the recesses of Turkey Cock Mountain, brewing up yet another batch of white lightning. Here lately it seemed like they were selling the stuff quicker than they could make it and they were already in talks to build a second still.

Out back, Everett stood by the shed with a pair of old geezers who, upon first glance, could've been mistaken for twins. Forrest recognized them instantly. They were the Pickard brothers – Gage and Gaston. Their wrinkled faces resembled hound dogs well passed their prime and they looked about as happy as a turkey on Thanksgiving, their mouths twisted in matching sneers.

Forrest nodded as he approached, "Evenin'. What can I do for y'all?"

"Heard y'all makin' some liquor," squalled Gage, the oldest. Firmly at his side, Gaston nodded, gumming his teeth, "We gone need about two dozen jars but we ain't payin' no more than two bills a piece, you hear?"

Though that was fifty cents less than they usually asked, Forrest knew how to respect his elders and they could spare a few quarters. Nodding, Forrest agreed and unlocked the shed, fetching a crate. Howard dipped in behind him and fetched the other. The wooden boxes held twelve jars a piece. They toted the mule to the Pickards' truck for them, knowing full well the old men would've doubled over had they tried to lift the crates.

"Hold on," tutted Gaston. His brother griped, "Yeah, ain't you gone let us sample the product before we go handin' over a load of cash?"

Howard shot his little brother a smirk. He unscrewed one of the jars, passing it to Gage. "Yes, sir."

Gage lipped the jar and took a gulp before his brother swiped the liquor away from himself. Gage hissed, gumming his jaw some more, then swallowed thickly and cleared his throat, "Damn Prohibition. This stuff used to taste just fine 'til the government decided it shouldn't."

Raising an eyebrow, Forrest told him politely that if they didn't like it, they could always buy from somebody else. But Gage merely dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and shoved a wad of bills at Forrest's chest. "Naw. It still gets the job done, just tastes like hell. Not like the good ole stuff. And it's a damn shame cause it's all that keeps these old bones going anymore. We're about used up."

Gaston snorted, taking another sip. "Speak for yourself, old man."

"I'm only older by two years, idjit. You ain't that far behind."

Tossing a wink at the Bondurants, Gaston thanked them and the Pickard brothers were on their way. Forrest and Howard stood in the empty lot for a lingering moment, watching the tail lights of the Pickards' truck fade off into the night. Howard kicked at the ground, toeing an ant hill. "You reckon that's gone be us in a few years?"

Forrest grinned. "I hope it's more than a _few_."

Forrest locked the shed door and the duo headed back inside. The poker game in the back was well under way and, judging by the number of empty jars on the table, the men were three sheets to the wind. Howard dug a few dimes and quarters from the depths of his pockets. "Time to go hustle some drunks. Hey, send your woman over with some tea in a little while, won't you?"

But Howard didn't wait for a reply, stomping his gigantic frame through the many tables and chairs toward the rowdy poker game. There came a volley of shouts when he reached the table, the young men eager to let him join, and Forrest shook his head. Somethin' wasn't right with his brother. Sliding behind the bar, Forrest tapped two fingers on Ellie May's hip. She paused from emptying the dirty ash trays and cocked an amused eyebrow his way, "Can I help you, sir?"

His lips itched to spread into a grin but he withheld the impulse. "I'm sure you can…in more ways than one." Forrest motioned his office. "Join me for a minute?"

"I can't. Someone's got to run back and forth between the kitchen. I sent Abigail home six hours ago."

"Everett!" called Forrest. The young man popped up instantly, almost like magic, and Forrest was suddenly very grateful to have Everett in his life. Forrest jutted his chin toward the floor of the restaurant. "Think you can handle things for a minute or two?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

Ellie May sent him a thankful glance, allowing Forrest to take her by the hand and tug her into his office. No sooner than the door shut, did Ellie May find herself pressed against the wooden door, her lips captured in a searing kiss. Her hands went instantly to his shoulders, his large paws trapping her hips in place. He was always so warm and as he nipped at her bottom lip, playfully tugging and teasing, she didn't think she'd ever get tired of kissing him.

"Mhmm," she hummed against his mouth. "Someone's in a good mood."

"Been a good day," he muttered, lips traveling across her jaw to nibble on her ear. Fighting to stifle a yawn, Ellie May stroked the back of his head, "Well, good. I'm glad you've had a nice day. How much longer you reckon we'll be open?"

"Getting sleepy?" Forrest pulled back, his fingers under her chin tilting her face toward him. She smiled softly, darting forward to peck his lips before nodding, "A little."

"Yeah, alright. Why don't you wrap up and go on to bed? I'll join you in two h-"

"One hour," Ellie May swiftly cut him off. "And this ain't up for negotiation."

Forrest gave a quiet laugh. "Guess we have a deal then." His kissed the tip of her nose, gave her hips a squeeze, then forced himself away. Biting her lip, Ellie May shook her head at him and opened his office door. "I mean it, Forrest. One hour."

He dipped his head forward. "Yes ma'am."

Gliding back behind the bar, Ellie May finished cleaning the ash trays and Forrest shouted an announcement that they'd be closing in an hour. There came a few meager shouts of discontent but they were heavily slurred and easily ignored. Ellie May flitted around the restaurant for a few moments, putting away this and restocking that, things that would make it easier for Forrest to close up later. Just as she turned to take the trash out back, there came an angry shout from the front and then a shattering _pop! _The pop was followed immediately by Howard's unmistakable voice growling above the commotion, "Hey, you sorry shit! Throw something else, that shit ain't cheap!"

Curious, Ellie May poked her head out of the kitchen to see Howard holding a skinny man by the scruff of his neck, an overturned chair at his feet. "Don't hurt him!" a distraught woman shrieked, tears streaming down her face.

"Hurt 'em! Hurt the son of a bitch, break his legs!" shouted another man as he drunkenly stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own sagging pot-belly. He swung for the skinny man but Howard jerked him out of his reach. The eldest Bondurant brother shoved the angry, pot-bellied man in his pudgy chest, "You wanna fight 'em, y'all take it outside," and with that, he dropped the skinny one and pushed him toward the door.

"No, please!" the woman cried. "He'll kill him!"

Howard sneered at the shivering woman. "Ain't my problem, lady."

"Howard," Ellie May chided from the kitchen door. He didn't have to be so damn uncouth about things all the time. But Howard merely blinked, unaffected, "What?"

The two men headed for the door, both fuming with anger, but the hysterical woman shook her head defiantly, "I ain't gonna let you hurt him!" And then she lunged for the pot-bellied man.

"Get off me, Betty!" the man growled, clawing at the arms suddenly flailing around his torso. He snatched her off easily, tossing her aside like garbage. She crumbled pitifully, colliding into a table and knocking over a jar of apple brandy.

"Don't you touch her!" bellowed the skinny man and suddenly he was charging forward like a bull. They crashed to the floor like thunder, the restaurant shaking under the force of their collapse. Hal appeared at Ellie May's side, bat in hand, muttering something that sounded like, "..sick a'this shit.." And he and Howard dove in to break up the fight before the brawling fools broke a table or chair or, hell, the bar itself. As Hal and Howard attempted to tug apart the men tumbling around on the floor, the trembling woman, delusional and desperate to save the skinny man, gave a piercing cry once more and launched herself onto Howard's back.

Ellie May's jaw nearly dropped. "Oh my."

Howard straightened and stood still, the woman slapping and clawing at him. Though he was phyiscally unaffected by her efforts, he found them rather annoying and quickly grew perplexed. "Woman, what in the hell?" he called, calmly yanking her off of him only to heave her over his shoulder. He dumped her out onto the front porch, slamming the door shut behind him, just as Forrest emerged from his office.

Forrest, hands stiffly tucked in his pockets, hollered above the ruckus, "Alright, that's enough, now! Everybody out! _Now!"_

A series of miffed shouts rose within the crowd, but they weren't aimed at Forrest. Instead, the patrons were yelling at the brawling duo, angry that their fight was causing the party to end early.

"Aw, fuck, look whatchu done!"

"Way to go, Hubbard! Next time keep your hands to your own girl."

Howard and Forrest each grabbed one of the quarrelling men and chunked them out the front door. They went rolling down the front steps and landed in a heap in the dirt. The frantic woman shrieked some more and Howard fought the urge to knock her down the steps, too. "Y'all get the fuck outta here," he demanded, spitting at the ground, the drunken patrons of The County Line filling out around him.

When the last of their rowdy customers were gone, Forrest subtly tucked a five dollar bill into Hal's hand – an apology for his troubles – and sent Hal and Jefferson home. Ellie May leaned against the bar, the bundle of trash still in hand, and shook her head morosely. "Why can't people just behave?"

"Most people don't know how," said Everett quietly. He motioned the trash. "Let me get that for you."

She handed him the bundle and thanked him, going to fetch the broom. They had a lot of straightening up to do. But before she could so much as reach the broom closet, there came more shouts from the back, only this time they weren't of anger, they were of panic. And the voice was Everett's. Fear shot down Ellie May's spine as Forrest and Howard dashed out back. Retrieving the shotgun from Forrest's office, she sprinted after them.

The door to the shed had been pried open with an ax, the lock broken in the grass. A truck had been backed up to the shed and more than half a dozen grates saddled the back. Three men stood, their bodies coiled and ready to strike, two flashing knives, in front of the truck. Howard, Forrest, and Everett were facing them, their expressions masks of pure rage.

Forrest nodded slowly, "Yeah, I gotta hand it to you, that petty little brawl was a good distraction."

The shortest of the men gave a wry, gapped-tooth grin. "That was my idea."

"Y'all ain't from around here," declared Howard, after a few moments of silently eyeing the trio of thieves. He didn't recognize a one of 'em and judging by the slight crisp in the man's voice they were from somewhere a little further north than Blackwater. "Where you from?"

"Here and there," replied one of the men. "We get around."

"Who sent you?" Forrest demanded, the ever present brass knuckles flexing in his grasp. The short man eyed him impishly, "What makes you think we was sent?"

A growl brewed low in the back of Howard's throat and he took a step forward. With his impressive frame, he stood at least a foot taller than the tallest of the trio. He curled a lip back, snapping, "Cause between the three of you y'all got a brain the size of a walnut. Now, my brother asked you a question. Who _the fuck _sent you?"

"We don't know his name," the last one of the group finally answered, the one without a knife.

"Shut your mouth, William," instructed the man in the middle, but his partner insisted, "It's just money. Ain't worth dying for. Look, some fella approached us last week. He was a real hoity-toity type, one of them hot shots who thinks he's all that cause he's from the big city. He said if we stole your stash, we could keep half of it and he'd give us a hundred bucks."

"Four crates of that shit is worth more than a hundred bucks," muttered Howard causing the mens' eyes to widen.

"No kidding," muttered the short one, eyeing the clear jars. He whistled. "Well, boys, looks like we've been swindled."

"You don't have a name," repeated Forrest. He dropped the knuckles into his pocket and shuffled forward. "But you must've been meeting him somewhere later, to get your payment and to give him his cut of the liquor. So here's what's going to happen. You're gonna put my product back in my shed, you're gonna hand over ten dollars to pay for a new lock, and you're gonna tell me when and where you were meeting that fella, and only once you do that will we let you leave unharmed."

The short one bowed up, his nostrils flaring. "Now, just who the fuck do you thi-"

"Or," Forrest swiftly cut him off, his eye narrowing. "You could not do this and mouth off. Maybe try to put up a fight. But that'll only end with each of you bloodied and limp on the side of the road, dead to the world. It's your choice."

Howard swallowed. "Yeah, I'd choose real carefully if I was you."

There came a still beat, the trio weighing their odds, before one without the knife finally nodded. "Deal."

* * *

Their home was empty, the trouble finally settling down for the night. Everything was locked up and as Ellie May prepared for bed, she sought out her husband. He was in the sitting room, frozen on the couch gazing out the window with a stormy glare. She came up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder, giving a light squeeze. "I've got a bad feeling about this, Forrest," she said softly. The thieves had given Forrest an address for an abandoned filling station outside of Montgomery County where they were supposed to meet the thug who'd hired them at noon the following day. Tomorrow, when the sun was at its highest peak in the sky, the city slicker would be at the old filing station, only it wasn't the trio of hired goons who would be meeting him. It would be the often rumored about Bondurant brothers and their partners in shine. And, as Ellie May had said, she had a terrible feeling about the whole affair.

"I know it's foolish to ask, but is there any way you'd let the Sheriff handle this?"

For a moment, Forrest reverted back to his former self – the passive, silent Forrest. Then, he slowly lifted his hand to place it on top of hers, their wedding rings glimmering in the moonlight that spilled through the window. "I'm shutting the place down tomorrow. I want you to go to the farm. Spend the day there…least until we get back."

Sighing, Ellie May conceded. There was no point in fighting a losing battle. All was quiet for several beats of time, both lost in their private thoughts, and when Ellie May began to run her fingers affectionately through his hair, Forrest leaned into her touch, relishing the tender feeling. She gave a playful tug at the thick, dark strands. "'Bout time you're due for a haircut."

Again, Forrest remained silent and a gentle frown dipped Ellie May's lips. She slipped her hand underneath his chin and pushed up, forcing his head back. Her eyes bore into him as she stroked her finger across Forrest's clouded brow. "I don't like this...I don't like you being so distracted from me."

Forrest felt his face instantly soften. He didn't like it either. Suddenly feeling very guilty, Forrest patted his lap and when she sat on his knee, he pulled her flush against his chest. He muttered an apology against her hair and tenderly kissed her temple. She turned in his lap to face him, her legs spilling over onto the couch cushion beside him. Their noses brushed, Ellie May's hair falling forward to tickle his face. He cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb across her pale skin, before his fingers trailed south to push her dress off of her shoulder. He brought his lips to her collarbone, sweeping gentle kisses across her shoulder and neck, repeatedly muttering, "I'm sorry."

He abruptly lifted his face and drew her mouth to his own. He kiss was fierce. "From now on you've got my full attention."

Ellie May's heart fluttered. "Now, that sounds more like it."

Forrest tightened his grasp around her and stood. He carried her to their room like she was weightless, and to him she practically was. Carrying her was nothing compared to tossing two hundred pound bales of hay from the loft in his father's barn, or dragging a four hundred pound tree halfway down the mountain. He placed her gently at the foot of their bed and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Wordlessly, Ellie May tugged his shirt free from the band of his pants and slowly went about undoing the buttons. As she did so, she subconsciously began to bite her lip and the sight made Forrest's chest tighten. How could he be distracted by anything _but _her?

Once the buttons of his shirt were completely unfastened, Ellie May set about freeing him from his dungarees and then slid back on the bed. She studied her husband, chewing her bottom lip, and wiggled her finger at him – an invitation. Forrest took a knee on the bed and hovered over her. She gazed up at him, running her fingers lightly up and down his chest. Raising up on her elbows, she moved to kiss him but Forrest eased her back down. He licked his lips, his voice rumbling deep in his chest as he demanded, "Tell me what you want, Ellie May."

Ellie May couldn't suppress the shiver that danced across her skin. "I want…" She took a deep breath. "I want you."

Again, she rose and again Forrest kept her at bay. "_How_ do you want me?"

Oh, God. Her stomach tightened. The look in Forrest's eyes was nearly paralyzing. Ellie May had never felt anything like it before. It was different than the other times they'd made love. This wasn't love or exploration or the desperate need to please each other. This was lust, pure and simple. An animalistic, primal desire. "I want you inside me," she whispered, unabashed. Her knees tightened on either side of his hips and when he made no move to take her, Ellie May narrowed her gaze and growled, "_Now_."

An overly satisfied grin nearly split Forrest's face in two. "Yes ma'am," he purred, before crashing his lips to hers.

* * *

**IMPORTANT****: I wrote a scene that takes place after Forrest starts selling the liquor at The County Line but I couldn't figure out how to fit it into the story so I've posted it as a companion piece one-shot called**Overtime at The County Line**. Check it out!**

**Thank you so, so, **_**so **_**much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Your response was so positive! I can't tell you guys how excited I was that you liked it!**

**A big thanks go out to two of the **guest **reviewers (one of which signed **Joe D.**) for your feedback about the way the story is progressing. From what I gathered, some have turned off of the story because it has less action and I'm really torn about that. I know the action was introduced late (but to be fair it was mostly because of Forrest's age) but I've tried to include enough action to satisfy both those of you who want the action **_**and **_**those who want the fluff. And it's really quite ironic because this chapter pretty much begins the major, ending conflict of the story which is going to be very action packed. Also, I know this story is centered around Ellie May and Forrest's relationship and it's because their love is what makes the ending so huge. So, that being said, I hope that entices you enough to stick around and see what happens. **

**Either way, I'm pleased with where the story is and I'm **_**very **_**excited to see how you guys react to the ending. We've still got another fifteen or so chapters but like I said, this pretty much kick-starts the events that lead up to the end. **

**Until next time, love! **


	28. Chapter 28

**I know it's been a while – school has been **_**insane. **_**But this is the last week and then finals and I'm done! Thank you guys so much for your patience! **

**Your reviews, as they always are, are wonderful and amazing and so encouraging! A major thanks to those of you who have continued to support this story. And to those of you who are new to the family, welcome! **

**Those of you who have been wondering when this chapter would be out can thank they lovely Ms. **Tarafina. **Her wave of reviews woke up my muses and made me sit down and find the time to get this one to you all. This chapter is dedicated to her. (At least, I assume you're a her...if not, I'm so sorry.) **

**As always, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ellie May hated waiting.

On the Bondurant farm for the day, she was thankful there were a million and one things to do to keep her busy. Things to keep her distracted. She and Emmy tended to the animals since Jack was now working in the fields. Then, she gathered all the sheets in the house for a washing. After the laundry was hung out to dry, she helped Emmy patched up a few rips and replace a few buttons on some of their more worn clothing. But as the hands on the clock above the stove ticked forward toward twelve, the knots in Ellie May's stomach grew. And when the fatal hour struck, Ellie May found it difficult to breathe and hastily excused herself, ignoring Emmy's concerned gaze.

"Damn it, Forrest," she panted, struggling for air as she slumped down onto the steps of the front porch. She gathered her face in her hands and willed herself not to cry. "Lord, please let them be okay."

The screen door creaked behind her and Ellie May wiped at her misty eyes – just in case a few tears had leaked. She cleared her throat. "Emmy, I told you I'm fine. Go on back inside and finish lunch. Cricket and Jack'll be comin' in any minute now."

"They already are. Emmy's feeding 'em now."

"Papa!" She turned with surprise to face her father-in-law. "I didn't know you were home. I thought you were down at the general store. Have you been here all this time?"

"Sure have," he nodded slowly. He dropped down onto the step beside her, his coveralls dirty around the knees. "I've been out in the fields with the boys…my son wanted me to stay close to the house today. Stay close to you. Got any idea why he'd want that?"

Ellie May shrugged. "Forrest does a lot of things I'm not real sure about. Did he tell you about the near robbery? I reckon he's a bit worried they might come back but…but I don't know why they'd come here. He's just being silly, I suppose… You know Forrest, he likes to worry…"

"Sounds like somebody else I know." Papa nudged her knee with his own.

"Yes, but I have reason to."

"I bet Forrest feels the same way."

"I reckon…" Ellie May sighed. She passed Papa a weary smile. "Let's just hope they come back in one piece."

* * *

Pain exploded across Howard's jaw. _Shit. _Sounded like a few teeth cracked. There came another strike to his face, followed immediately by a blow to his gut. Any other man would've doubled over from the force of the hit to his midsection but the eldest Bondurant brother merely grunted, his middle clenching in pain. A growl tore through the back of his throat and he saw red.

But I reckon' we're gettin' ahead of ourselves here.

That morning just after sunrise the Bondurant brothers and their band of loyal partners in shine, Tom, Danny, and, this time, even good ole Everett, loaded up two trucks and made their way across the county line. They headed north. Their destination, if you'll recall, was an abandoned filling station in Montgomery County. Though none of them had ever been to the old station, they figured they could find it easy enough. Danny had driven by it a few times on his way to Pennsylvania to visit his grandfather, saw it nestled in a thicket of pines off of a weaving dirt road.

Their plan was to get their early and surround the station. With their pistols tucked into the band of their dungarees, they would wait in the brush and woods, crouched, hidden. They would watch and see how heavily armed these chicken-shit city slickers were, the ones who paid those three jackasses to rob them of their liquor, and hope that they had come prepared for the fight they knew was inevitable.

Kneeling in the underbrush, the bulk of his weight resting on the heels of his feet, Forrest felt like grumbling from the pure uncomfortableness of the situation. He hated crouching there like a no'count shit. Like _he _had done something wrong. But Forrest saw the necessity of it. He had a wife now, someone who depended upon him; he couldn't just rush into something blind and unprepared. And so he waited. The long-barreled .38 pressed along his thigh and the ever present brass knuckles in his pocket made Forrest hyperaware of his surroundings, aware that the sun was approaching its highest point in the sky. The city slickers would be arriving any minute.

When the dull rumble of duel car engines hit his ears, Tom Cundiff whistled from his spot, a low, single-note. _This was it._

Twin Fords hummed over the way and pulled into the deserted station, one after the other. From within the two vehicles, six men emerged. They were dressed in long, dark coats with hats pulled high over their foreheads, their thin mustaches drooping around their lips. One was lipping a cigar and slammed the car door behind him. "Where the fuck are they? You told them twelve o'clock sharp, yeah?"

"Yeah, I told 'em," one of the men replied. "They should be here."

"Well, I don't see 'em. Do any of you's see 'em?" There came a chorus of _no_'s and the big wig took a quick puff off his cigar before tossing it to the dirt. "I didn't fucking think so. So, where the fuck are they?"

Danny Mitchel leveled his shotgun across the fallen tree trunk in front of him and suddenly he wasn't in Virginia anymore. He was in Orléans, France. And he wasn't holding his father's weathered shot-gun. He was poised with his United States military issued army rifle. He caught Howard's knowing eye. The old friends shared a brief but intense stare before the Bondurant man tilted his head forward. It was a motion so precise that if Danny hadn't been looking for it he would've missed it. But he was looking for it.

Danny squeezed the trigger.

The loud shot that rang through the warm country air had the desired effect and each city slicker jerked in surprise, dropping to the ground and withdrawing their own pistols. Now that they had their weapons on display, Forrest could see just how evenly numbered they were. He bellowed, "Alright, now! Pistols on the ground _now_!"

The men in long coats teetered on their overly expensive shoes, eyes furiously scanning the trees. They cocked their pistols but weren't sure where to shoot.

"And why the fuck would we do that?" shouted the man who'd been smoking the cigar, now crouched behind an open car door.

"Because we have you surrounded and if you don't, we'll shoot you dead!"

"Why don't you come out and face us, you piece of shit?!"

Forrest glanced at the little hill that rose to the east of the station. He nodded at Everett and a second shot pierced the air. The men from the city turned and fired blindly into the forest, but Everett was safely tucked behind a fat stump, and when the men realized their efforts were fruitless, their leader spat at the ground and grumbled, "This is what you get for workin' with fuckin' hillbillies…"

He glanced at his boys and sneered, "Alright, fine! We'll put 'em down on your word that you ain't gonna shoot us, ya hear?"

"See that box crate by the door?" called Howard. "Put your guns in it and set it in the middle of the road. Then, wait by the cars."

Bitching and griping, the men did as instructed and when they'd carried out Howard's order, the man barked, "Come on out now, you sons of bitches!"

The Bondurants and their friends waited, letting the men sweat. Then, finally, Howard stood and Danny followed suit. Then, Forrest and Tom rose to their feet as well, and Everett slowly followed. They emerged from the surrounding tree line, their guns cocked and ready, making a circle around the filling station's parking lot. The city slicker hissed and his lips curled back over his teeth, "Ah, _shit_."

"Heard you boys was lookin' for some liquor," said Forrest. His voice was deep and quiet, his face as impassive as ever. His hat cast a haunting shadow over his face and the men from the city, though indignant with anger, weren't quite stupid enough not to see the danger in his calm expression.

"You sellin'?" asked the big wig, his stare solid despite the fact that he was gazing down the barrel of Forrest's .38. "Ain't that lucky for us. See, we were supposed to meet some fellas here. Right about now, as a matter of fact, and the bitches never showed. I suppose that's fate. You boys know what fate is, right? Divine acts of the universe and all…guess fate wanted us to buy from you, instead."

"We ain't sellin', shit, but by the sounds of it you're speakin' it," muttered Howard, squinting from the sun. The city slicker smiled at him, a sly grin akin to a fox or wolf, "Ain't that a shame. Looks like we're going home thirsty, boys."

"You ain't goin' anywhere," announced Howard. His little brother meandered forward until the barrel of his gun was pressed into the man's shoulder. Forrest's brow clouded as he asked, "You think we wouldn't recognize you?"

Forrest knew the moment the men climbed from the car who they were. He might not remember the names but Forrest never forgot a face. These were the same bunch of hot shots who stormed into his restaurant all those months ago demanding to be given a cut of his profit. They were from some big city – a mob city like Chicago or Detroit. And were probably involved in all kinds of racket. If only Forrest could remember that son of a bitch's name…

To his credit, the city slicker's eyes barely flickered in fear or shock as the gun brushed his coat. He pursed his lips. "I don't quite know what you mean, seein' as how we've never met before. I'm sure I wouldn't forget such fine company."

"I don't appreciate your attitude," snarled Howard.

"Appreciate this." The man brought up his hand and raised his middle finger. "You cousin-fucking hillbilly."

Forrest sighed, lowered his pistol, and stepped to the side just in time for his older brother to tackle the big mouthed man from the city. The man swung wildly, striking Howard across the shoulder before Howard caught him in the nose. They tussled for a moment, the man getting in a few lucky blows to Howard's face. But soon Howard had enough. With a single punch, the man was out cold. Still, the oldest Bondurant delivered three swift punches to the man's face for good measure. When he stood, he caught Forrest's blank stare and tried to bring himself to feel ashamed. But then he saw Danny's pearly white grin and just couldn't do it.

"Yeah, alright," murmured Forrest. He uncocked his pistol and stuffed it back in the band of his dungarees. He pointed at the unconscious man and pinned the five remaining city slickers with a hard stare, "What's his name? He the one in charge?"

The men were silent. They passed frantic, uncertain glances at one another, but still their lips remained shut. Howard cracked his knuckles, Tom and Danny bowing up at his sides as Everett stood off to the side quickly hugging the shotgun from The County Line.

"I asked you a question," said Forrest. "And I ain't gone ask again."

One of the men, who was shorter than most of the bunch, took a half-step forward and cleared his throat. "Keller…'is name is Keller."

Forrest nodded, rumbling in the back of his throat. The name sounded familiar but he knew it wasn't right. "Who's Mr. Keller workin' for?"

"If I tell you that, I'm a dead man."

"Yeah…yeah, I know how that goes," sighed Forrest. He slipped his hand into his pocket and loosely fingered the brass knuckles. He thought about getting home to Ellie May. "But, you see, sometimes we make decisions in life, things that might not have been so smart, and sooner or later we gone have to pay for those decisions." Forrest pointed at their unconscious leader. "He decided to smart off to my brother here…and you're gonna decided to tell me just who the fuck you're working for and what they want with my business."

A muscle in the stranger's jaw twitched and he glanced at his comrades. Slowly, his head shook. "I can't do that."

"Well," Forrest murmured. "Let's see if we can't change your mind."

* * *

When sunset came and went without word from Forrest or Howard, Ellie May's stomach took a turn for the worst. Her imagination began to do awful things. And when the rest of the family turned in for the night, Ellie May found herself out of distractions. She curled up in the rocking chair by the kitchen window, the same rocking chair that was a favorite of Dorothy Bondurant once upon a time. As she sat watching the wind pass through the treetops by the road, she thought about how Mama Bondurant would sit for hours by that very window, endlessly rolling cigarettes and gazing longingly toward the mountain.

"Damn it, Forrest," she whispered, fingers reaching to graze the glass plane. Her bottom lip began to pout and she sighed deeply, the hands on the clock continuing to spin forward. It wasn't until just after three that morning that a pair of headlights could be seen peeking through the trees.

Half asleep, Ellie May rose from the rocking chair and burst out the front door. Before Forrest could so much as park the truck, Ellie May came flying off the porch and into his arms. "Are you hurt? Was anyone hurt? Did you find them? What di-"

"Ellie," Forrest cut her off. "I just…I need a moment before you…before we get into all of it."

All of it? Well, that didn't sound too promising. But Ellie May understood and was content to simply have him in her arms, seemingly unharmed. Her arms tight around his neck, she drew away slightly to study her husband's face. He looked about as exhausted as she felt. Stroking his cheek, she suggested that they stay at the farm tonight and tugged him inside.

They settled on the couch in the family room by the stove. Their arms around one another, Ellie May pressed her face into Forrest's chest. "Now don't this feel familiar…?"

"Mhmm." A murmur of agreement rumbled in the back of his throat. Running his fingers through her hair, Forrest kissed the crown of her head and took a deep breath. She smelled so sweet. Her dark hair fell between his fingers and as he twirled a thin lock of it, he swallowed, "You gone ask?"

"I thought I'd give you a minute to calm down."

A smile twitched the edge of his lips. He pressed a kiss into her hair once more and then pulled back, turning her in his lap so he could look her in the eye. Forrest trailed his forefinger down the curve of her face. "I love you, Ellie."

She smiled softly back at him, her hands curled against his chest. "I love you, too, Forrest."

They were quite for a moment before Ellie May sighed and nodded. "Alright, out with it."

"We're fine. Danny 'bout broke his hand but he's alright. Tommy, Everett, they're fine. And, hell, you know, Howard…but, uh…things ain't lookin' too good, Ellie. Do you remember that day a bunch of them big wigs from the city came to the restaurant?"

Ellie May vaguely recalled that day. A bunch of slick lookin' slim-balls in long coats and crisp hats barged into The County Line like they was runnin' the place. Ellie May remembered thinking it was going to come to blows but with a few words from Forrest, they high tailed it outta there without so much as a fuss.

"Turns out they weren't quite satisfied with our first encounter," scoffed Forrest. "That man-" His lips curled in repugnance as he spat the man's name. "-_Vaught_, he's the one that paid those three to rob us last night. Apparently, he's got this whole outfit up in Detroit and they wanna get in on this mess."

"Get in on it? You mean they wanna take over?"

Forrest nodded. "Yeah. Think they can come in and run things 'cause they talk fast and wear shoes that cost more money than makes any kind of sense."

"What did y'all do?" asked Ellie May breathlessly, fingers tugging at his collar.

Forrest answered as simply as he could. "We sent them a message."

* * *

They were ducking through the briars and underbrush of Smith Mountain when they spotted it – a shiny golden, brown hair peeking out beneath a cluster of honeysuckles. Cricket whistled low, almost to himself, and smiled at his best friend. "Lookie, here, Jack! We got ourselves a Jack Rabbit, I bet."

The youngest Bondurant boy mirrored his best pal's grin and motioned widely with his arms. "Cricket, you go around the back here and I'll go forward 'round that tree. We'll trap it between us, alright?"

"Sure thing, Jack."

With a nod, Jack looped around the front. His steps were careful. They didn't want to scare away their prize. But when Jack finally came full circle, his steps faltered, bile rising in the back of his throat as he gazed upon a pair of naked, dirty, _human _feet. "Shit," he gasped, swiping his hat off his head and clutching it to his chest as if it could calm his frantically beating heart. "Cricket, that ain't no rabbit…"

They had found a human body. A _dead, _human body.

* * *

**p.s. I expect that I'll have another chapter out in a two or three days! Maybe that'll make up for the big gaps in updates here lately. **


	29. Chapter 29

**Somehow two or three days turned into ten. Finals, right? So sorry.**

**A major thanks to: **Jamie, Joe D., Not. So. Typical. Girl., Anissa990, 26HR, KaicherAlfstan, sunshine97, Dasiygirl95, Kay1104, Tarafina, Erin, RW, Stephanie, MulishaMaiden, rilo, Mo4565, **and all of you who review under **Guest. **You're all awesome and your kind words are what drive this story forward! **

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ellie May wasn't quite sure how it had happened. She was just going to take him a drink and get back out on the floor. They were particularly crowded that day, and Abigail was swamped out front. But one minute Ellie May was handing Forrest a cup of coffee and the next she was straddling him in his desk chair, her dress pooled around her hips. They were rocking together slowly, Ellie May practically gnawing off her lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure.

"Shit, Forrest," she hissed, her back arching as he found that sensitive spot inside her. He was gripping her hips like they were the only thing holding him to the earth, his fingers roughly digging into her soft flesh. His face was burrowed into her chest, her breasts muffling his own delightful moans.

When they came together, they slumped back in Forrest's chair a sweaty, panting mess. As her sense of ecstasy gradually faded, Ellie May returned to reality and began to blush like wild. "You don't think anyone heard us, do you?"

Forrest found that he didn't particularly care if anyone had heard. He supposed he should have. Love making was something private, something to be kept between a husband and wife. Not to mention this was his place of business. But as Ellie May curled against his chest, her face flushed, her eyes dilated with passion and lust, Forrest kinda wanted every damn body to know that she was so sated because of him. He wanted every man in the entire state to know they would never do that to her. She was _his._

"Forrest?"

"Hmm?" he grunted, slightly startled to realize that Ellie May was no longer in his lap but on her knees in front of him, peering up at him through her long eye lashes. He fought a smile. "Whatchu doin', Ellie?"

She tugged his dungarees further down his thighs and whispered, "I think you know what I'm doin'…"

And then she took him in her mouth.

Half an hour later, Abigail watched her employer's wife emerge from the kitchen with a scarlet face. A smirk on her face, the older woman swatted Ellie May's hip. "Thought you done ran off on me."

"Sorry. Um, I was…a bit preoccupied. Forrest needed something."

"Mhmm, I bet he did." Ellie May's eyes became saucers at Abigail's gentle teasing. The waitress sent her a wink and murmured, "Don't worry about it, sweetie. Every new couple goes through this phase."

"Are you sure cau-" began Ellie May, but the roar of the restaurant was too loud to combat so she grabbed Abigail's wrist and lead her through the kitchen to the storage room. Plopping down on an overturned box crate, Ellie May hid her face in her hands out of embarrassment. "I can't control myself, Abbey. I-I don't know what to do. Is this normal? I mean, does this happen to other women?"

"If the sex is good…"

"Abigail!"

"Well, you asked," Abigail grinned. But she could see Ellie May's true concern and crossed the storage room to kneel beside her on the floor. She placed a hand on Ellie May's knee to steady herself and sighed, "Honey, honestly, you ain't got nothin' to worry about. It's natural for a married woman to have sex with her husband. And if you weren't attracted to him, well, hell, that'd be cause for concern."

"But this much? I can barely control myself around him and don't even get me started on my thoughts." Every second of every minute, Ellie May could think of sex and sex _only. _She was so lust driven that her and Forrest were having sex two, sometimes three times a night. And when they weren't in bed, she was undressing him with her eyes. At first, she blamed it on being new to sex and recently married. According to Abigail, all newlyweds went through it, but Ellie May was having her doubts.

"How long has it been like this? We're y'all…you _know, _before the wedding?"

Ellie May gasped. "No! Not once! I swear. We waited. And…well, I mean it was great. Better than great but I could still handle myself. It just seems like the longer we're together the crazier for him I get."

"Oh, no…oh, honey!" squealed Abigail. "I know what's wrong. Hell, ain't nothin' wrong. I was the same way with all three of my children."

Once more, Ellie May's eyes grew wide. "You do what with your children?!"

Abigail rolled her eyes. "When I was pregnant! I was hot as a Texas drought when I was pregnant with my yougins. That's probably all it is, honey. You're fine."

"Wait," Ellie May's heart fluttered. "You don't mean…you don't think I'm…?"

"Sweetheart, I don't think it. I _know_ it. You are pr-"

"What the hell y'all doin' back here?"

The women's heads snapped toward the back door where Howard Bondurant stood, his brow furrowed. Ellie May leapt up from the crate. "Nothing! Talking. It's woman stuff. Get out of here, Howard."

Howard peered at her curiously but slowly lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Shit, I was just askin'."

The oldest Bondurant left the women and lumbered through the kitchen to Forrest's office. Not bothering to knock, he pushed on in and dropped down onto an empty chair in the corner. "Yeah, so, Gummy's sick. Sorry piece of shit caught pneumonia or some horseshit. I don't know why we keep him around."

Forrest did not reply. His brother knew why they needed Gummy. They needed another body, pure and simple. Gummy was good at taking orders. He'd stay overnight at the stills for a month if they told him to and he kept his mouth shut.

"Who's staying at the stills tonight?" asked Forrest.

"Tom's at the one on Turkeycock Mountain. Gummy was gonna stay at the other but now he's actin' all pathetic…it's time, Forrest. You need to get Everett involved. He's a good kid. We know we can trust him-"

Forrest swiftly cut Howard off, "I done told you, Everett is not gettin' involved in this racket any more than he already is."

"Shit, Forrest, you just want him here so he can watch over Ellie May."

Forrest clenched his teeth. "You know why."

Howard sighed. "Yeah, I know."

Though things had been quiet lately, the Bondurant brothers knew it was only a matter of time before their friends from Detroit were heard from again. Leaving Ellie May alone was a risk Forrest was simply not willing to take. Besides, like Howard said, Everett _was_ a good kid. He was too good for the mess they were dealin' with and Forrest wasn't going to be the one responsible for ruinin' the boy's life.

No. Forrest's mind was made up. Everett had about as good a chance of joining their shine business as Jack did.

* * *

Jack's first instinct when he and Cricket stumbled across the dead body had been to tell his brothers; so that's exactly what he did. He left Cricket to guard the body – a move that admittedly was not the brightest, considering Cricket Pate's well known sensitivities, but Jack didn't rightly see any other options – and practically ran over the mountain to his brother's restaurant. He stumbled through the door and nearly collapsed against the bar, breathless. He offered a weak smile to Ellie May, who stood at the cash register tallying up a customer's receipt.

"Hello there," she cooed. "You look positively up to no good. What'd you do?"

Ignoring her, Jack countered with his own question. "Forrest around? Or Howard?"

She eyed him suspiciously, then jerked her chin toward the kitchen. "They're out back. Wha-" But he was gone before she could finish. "Well, hello to you, too…"

"Forrest! Howard!" shrieked Jack as he burst out the back door of the restaurant. His brothers were making their way back and forth between the storage shed and Danny Mitchell's truck, their arms burdened by wooden crates stacked full of mason jars.

"Hey there, kid," Howard grunted, dropping a load onto the truck.

Forrest was less congenially, eyeing his little brother. "Whatchu doin' here, Jack? You and Cricket get finished in the fields?"

Today was the final day of the tobacco harvest and Forrest knew their father was counting on the crop. But Jack merely nodded and struggled to get a full lung's worth of breath. "Shit, y'all ain't gone believe what me and Cricket done found."

Jack led his brothers up Smith Mountain to where he'd left Cricket and the unknown body. Cricket looked positively ghost-like, having turned a great deal paler than he normally was at being left alone with a dead body. His chin quivering, he muttered as his best friend reached his side, "You should'a seen it, Jack. A big, ole fat beetle crawled straight into his mouth and there're worms buggin' 'round his feet."

"Get away from there, Cricket," barked Howard. He motioned for Cricket and Jack to back away from the body and itch further up the mountain as Forrest bent to reveal the body's face, hidden from a cluster of honeysuckles. Forrest pulled back the low-hanging limbs and peered hard.

"Shit," hissed Howard.

"You recognize him?"

"Yeah," nodded Howard, dragging a hand across eyes. "That's Willard Tate."

Forrest started. "Sophia's husband?"

Sophia was their cousin; their momma's youngest sister, Thelma, lived just over the county line and three years ago her daughter Sophia and Sophia's husband, Willard, had moved to Blackwater. Willard had gotten a job on Calvin Lester's farm seein' as how Calvin didn't have any sons to work for him. Though they weren't particularly close to their cousin and her husband, it had still been nice seeing them at county events like the annual wood choppin' at the Jamison farm or the corn shuckin' at the Mitchell's place.

"That's Sophia's husband?" Jack echoed his older brother. "Hot sucks!"

"Shut your trap, Jack," snapped Howard. "You and Cricket go on now. Go home."

"Now, hang on! We're the ones that found him!" bellowed Jack, the tops of his ears turning a brilliant shade of red. "You can't jus-"

Forrest rose to his feet, the honeysuckle falling back over Willard's face. "Jack, don't argue. Do what you're told. Go on. You, too, Cricket. We'll handle this."

"And don't go runnin' your mouths, either," demanded Howard.

"This ain't fair-!" roared Jack but Cricket cut him off with a shaky elbow to his best friend's side, "Hush, Jack. You heard 'em. Let 'em handle it."

"No! We found him! You can't just-"

"Jack," warned Forrest, his voice low and barely audible over the slight hum of wind sweeping over the mountain. "Go home. _Now_."

"This ain't fucking fair, Forrest," growled Jack, his eyes misting over despite his efforts to keep them dry. He wasn't crying, exactly. But he was just so frustrated. "I ain't a little boy no more, Forrest," he muttered bitterly as he and Cricket began to retreat down the mountain. He felt so betrayed. Forrest was supposed to be on his side. That's how it had always worked. It was him and Forrest against the world – always had been. But now it seemed like Forrest was goin' off with Howard more and more.

Cricket lightly nudged Jack's side, the blue pallor gradually returning to his skin. "C'mon, Jack. I'll race ya to Wittleton Road."

With one final glare toward his older brothers, Jack slung his arm around Cricket's shoulders and mumbled, "Yeah, let's get outta here."

As the youngsters gradually trickled down the mountain, Howard shuffled toward the body.  
Using the toe of his boot, he nudged Willard's bare feet. "Whatta ya think got him?"

Once more, Forrest pulled the honeysuckle limbs away to reveal the dark burgundy stain on Willard's shirt. "I reckon that."

"Shot?"

"Stabbed, I think."

"Son of a bitch," grumbled Howard.

His brother sighed, "Yep…I wonder how long he's been here."

Kneeling, Howard observed the dryness of Willard's lips and the absolute lack of color in his cheeks. He rummaged around in the dirt until he found Willard's hand among the leaves. His fingers were ice cold. Over the years Howard had seen his fair share of dead bodies, mostly in the war, and he'd developed a sort of sixth sense. "One, maybe two days."

"Yeah, alright." Forrest cleared his throat. "Look, I'ma go into town and get the sheriff. Find Sophia, will ya? Tell her what happened to him."

"Why I gotta be the one to tell her?" grunted Howard. There were two things Howard just plain hated in this world: cowards and emotional women.

"Cause I'd rather you try dealing with her than with Pete."

"I ain't got a problem with the sheriff," Howard argued.

"Yeah, but the first thing he's gonna suggest when we go reportin' a dead body is that we're the ones that done it."

"Not if the dead body's practically our family."

Forrest eyed his older brother silently. Finally, Howard scoffed and kicked at the dirt, "Yeah, alright. Fine. Piss…how am I supposed to find her anyhow?"

"Last I heard they were living in Butler's Cabin behind Lester's property."

"The one on that cut-through road? Yeah, I know where that is…hey, you reckon Ellie May would go with me? Maybe she can help break the news easier."

Forrest cut his eyes at Howard. "Why don't you take _your_ wife?"

"Lucy can't handle these kinds'a things, you know that. She's worse than Cricket!"

"Aw, hell, Howard, you're just makin' excuses."

"Will she go, though?"

"You know she will. But you better ask nicely. Howard, I ain't kiddin'. I'm sick of listening to y'all two bicker because you antagonize her."

"Antagonize, shit, Forrest, I don't even know what that means."

Forrest rolled his eyes. "Don't play stupid with me, Howard."

Howard scoffed, grinning. "I ain't playin'."

* * *

Sheriff Pete Hodges was a round, usually jolly man. He and his deputies normally avoided The County Line restaurant, not even acknowledging its existence, and Forrest knew this was because they did not want to disturb the dynamic machinery of illicit booze that kept Franklin County a float. And because they were afraid.

As Forrest pushed open the door to the sheriff's office, he could only imagine how the sheriff would react to his presence. The jovial man glanced up from a stack of paperwork as Forrest entered and stood, greeting Forrest with a wide smile. "Forrest Bondurant, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

The sheriff's cheerful disposition quickly disappeared as Forrest relayed the situation on Smith Mountain, blurring the details about who exactly found the body so as to keep Jack and Cricket off the law's radar. When Forrest and Sheriff Hodges arrived at Smith Mountain, a young coroner hot on their trail, they saw that Howard had already returned. And he wasn't alone.

"I'm sorry, Forrest, we tried to stop her," explained Ellie May as she rubbed the shoulders of Forrest's sobbing cousin, Sophia. "But she wouldn't listen. Once Howard let it slip that Willard's body was on the mountain, there was no stopping her."

Forrest shot Howard a disapproving glance and Howard didn't even bother to defend himself. He simply gave a lame shrug and muttered, "I know…"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we're gonna have to ask you to step away so we can have Mr. Dylan, here, examine the body," murmured Sheriff Hodges, his hat clutched to his chest as he spoke to the grieving widow.

"Sophia, come on," Ellie May gently prodded, tugging softly at the woman's shaking frame. Sophia jerked away a few times before consenting to the request, practically launching herself into Ellie May's arms. They collapsed back into a pile of leaves, Sophia's hysterical cries muffled by Ellie May's hair. Forrest winced. It wasn't right, a woman having to wail like that over the body of the man she loved. Ellie May wasn't ever gonna let Ellie May see him like that, the good Lord willin'.

The coroner examined the wound on Willard's stomach and surveyed his eyes and the inside of his mouth, muttering every few seconds to himself. As he did so, the sheriff approached Sophia like she was a skittish colt, ready to buck if he made too much noise. "Mrs. Tate, I hate to ask, but do you know anyone who would want to do this to your husband? Did Willard have any enemies?"

"E-enemies?" Sophia hiccupped, her blonde hair matted to her cheeks, slick from tears. "No! This isn't a western, sheriff. Willard never did nothin' to nobody! He was a good man, a-always done right by us."

"Us?"

A muscle twitched in Forrest's jaw. "They have a little boy, Morris."

"You rest assured, ma'am. We're going to do everything in our power to bring to justice whoever did this. We will find him," said the sheriff solemnly, before he was call away by the coroner.

"I can promise you one thing, Soph," muttered Howard as the sheriff retreated. "If they don't find who killed Willard, we will."

* * *

Ellie May pulled her sweater higher on her shoulders as she finished shelling two buckets of pecans on the porch. The sky had been due to break all morning and as another batch of dry lighting lite up the evening sky she figured it was time to head on inside. A bucket under each arm, she kicked the door open with the toe of her shoe and waded on into the kitchen. She was going to baked a few pecan pies, one for Emmy, Jack, and Papa, another to send up to Lucy in Penbrook, and one for her and Forrest to keep. As she set about making the pie crust, Forrest emerged from the back, his hands covered with splinters.

"You about done yet?" his wife questioned. He'd been cutting down the line of trees behind the restaurant since dawn, worried that they were too close to the building. He was concerned that if another big snow storm passed through like last winter, then the trees could crash down onto their home and kill 'em in their sleep. He'd been meaning to do it since they moved in and had just now gotten around to it.

"Yeah, I'm done. Say, Jack didn't call, did he?"

Ellie May frowned. "No, honey, I'm sorry. He's still sore over…well…"

Forrest nodded. Jack hadn't spoken a word to him in three days, not since they found Willard's body. Forrest had been by the Bondurant farm twice since and tried to get Jack to at least sling a few curse words at 'em. But he was ultimately unsuccessful. His brother was firmly silent.

"Give him a few more days. He'll come around. Is the sheriff any closer to figuring out what happened?"

"Hell, no. Pete is a good man but he's a shit detective. Howard's growin' antsy. If they don't figure somethin' out soon, Howard's gonna start investigating on his own."

Ellie May withheld a sigh. "I can only imagine how well that will go…so, um, I've got my appointment with Dr. Cobbs tomorrow. You're still coming with me, right?"

"Of course," replied Forrest. He wiped his hands on a dish rag, shaking off the last remnants of tree bark, to loop his arms around his wife's midsection. His chin on her shoulder, his hands rested on the softness of her belly. He stroked his thumb over her dress. "You really think…?" he began, but couldn't bring himself to finish. Hope burned inside him, a brilliant, pure light, illuminating his very soul. Forrest knew he shouldn't get his hopes up but when Ellie May confessed her suspicions that she might be pregnant, Forrest was an instant goner. He'd never felt so happy in his entire life.

"I think so," she smiled softly, placing her delicate hands over his own. The heat from his palms radiated through her dress and the warmth made her chest tightened. She loved him so much. "I don't know how to explain it, but I just…I feel it. I don't mean I feel the baby. I just…I feel like it's real, like it's happening. You know?"

Forrest grinned and shook his head, honestly, "No…"

"Oh, shut up," Ellie May gave a quiet laugh and slapped his hand playfully.

He pressed a kiss into her hair, just above her ear. "I sure do love you, Ellie May."

And she smiled, a smile so wide it threatened to slip clean off her face, and replied, "I love you, too, Forrest. Always have and I always will…unless you forget to refill the coffee pot again. Then, we might have to talk."

* * *

**We covered a lot of ground in this one. It's a lot to digest, I know. And for those of you who enjoy the action driven parts of this story, don't worry! Just because there might be a baby joining the family soon doesn't mean the story is going to slow down. Not one bit. Promise.**

**Anyhoo, I hope you guys enjoyed this one. And if not, let me know why. Also, if there is anything you guys ever want to see or something you have questions about, don't be afraid to ask. **

**Let me know what you think! **


	30. Chapter 30

**So a few weeks ago a **Guest **reviewer commented on the brothers' relationships in this story saying: **There hasn't seemed to be too much bonding time with jack yet and in the movie and story they are extremely close. **Well, that's very true and I knew at some point I was going to have to develop that closeness but, until this review, I didn't realize that I was running out of time to do so. That being said, I tried to focus a lot on Jack and Forrest's relationship in this one, and less on his relationship with Howard.**

**Dear said **Guest **reviewer: I hope you like it! **

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"I can't believe you're honestly doing this with everything that's going on. You know Hodges ain't got a lick of sense in his brain and him and those damn deputies ain't gettin' shit done when it comes to finding who done in Willard," Howard rattled on as he and Forrest gathered up the last load of cabbage from their father's field. While the two eldest boys had already left the nest, so to speak, they often returned to the farm on the weekends to help out in the fields, knowing that it was too much work for their father and youngest brother to handle alone.

"It's just been a long time since me and Ellie's done somethin' together is all," explained Forrest. "S'got nothin' to do with Willard."

"I know what it's got to do with…now that you done found out she's pregnant, you wanna spoil her rotten," Howard teased, tossing a bad head of cabbage Forrest's way. Forrest dodged the flying vegetable and shot Howard a frown, despite the playfulness in his eyes. His big brother merely grinned, "But that's fine. Take your woman out! Spoil her to death, have a good ole time. You just leave Willard's killer to me."

"What you ought to do is leave that to the sheriff and go spend some time with _your_ wife. When's the last time you got up there to see Lucy?"

Howard squinted from the sun and scratched the back of his neck. "Aw, last month."

"_Howard_," Forrest sighed.

"Once a month is all me and that woman need, alright? Look, you just handle your own damn marriage and let me worry 'bout mine."

"Don't you reckon it's about time you stop by the cabin and let her know you ain't dead?"

"Forrest," Howard pinned his brother with a serious, yet somehow silly, stare. "That woman ain't worried about me. Hell, if she thought I was dead she'd be throwin' a party right about now."

Forrest briefly entertained the idea of chiding Howard but merely gave a silent grin and trudged on up toward the house. The sun was at its peak in the sky but a merciful group of low hanging clouds shielded them from total exposure to the powerful rays of heat. Still, it was hotter than a stove pipe and Forrest was so sweaty that his eyes stung from it. Stopping 'round the side of the barn, he set aside his load of cabbage and peeled the shirt from his body, his suspenders hanging limp on his sides, and stuck his head under the water pump. He remained there for many moments, cooling off and basking in the beautiful summer weather.

Unlike Forrest, Howard was ready to abandon the heat and escaped with his load indoors to plop down in the kitchen, his feet propped on a chair, a glass of sweat tea on his lips. He was probably going inside to bug their little sister, Forrest mused. That seemed to be Howard's favorite passed time – buggin' folks. But, like Ellie May, Howard got particularly tickled about buggin' Emmy.

When asked about his knack for annoyin' the women in his life, namely Emmy, Howard would give that coyote grin, "She's our baby sister and as her big brothers it's our duty to make her miserable sometimes. Hell, boy, don't you know that? Pretty sure that's even in the Constitution."

"Hey, Forrest."

Forrest glanced up from his thoughts to see Cricket and Jack emerging from the barn, two sacks of chicken feed on hand. He nodded, "Boys."

It was Cricket who had spoken. Seemed Jack was still tryin' to act tough; Forrest reckoned he was still sore over the deal with Willard's body. "Cricket," he said, his voice a quite rumble. "Why don't you go on in the house and help Emmy get lunch ready? I'll finish up with Jack."

The skinny youth glanced at his best friend and offered a sympathetic smile. He wanted to refuse, to save Jack from the uncomfortableness, but Cricket knew better than to tell Forrest Bondurant no. He tucked his bony fingers into the pockets of his coveralls, permanently greasy from all his work on engines, giving a crisp nod, "Sure thing." And then he was gone, leaving Jack with both bags of feed.

Forrest silently watched his little brother work for a moment. There was no missing the stiffness in Jack's shoulders, the cloudiness of his brow, the distant anger drawing his face in tight pinches, the bright tint of red on the tips of his ears, burned from too many long hours in the sun. "Let me give you a hand with that," murmured Forrest as he stood.

"I got it," Jack snapped stiffly and, when his older brother reached for a sack of feed, he jerked away, his body freezing as he was seized by a foul anger. "I said I got it."

They were both very still, each waiting for the other to move. Jack, like a frightened animal, appeared ready to bolt at any second, but Forrest just calmly stared as if he expected Jack to tell him a joke or sing him a song. Eventually, the distraction of clucking chickens and heaviness of the feed sacks caused Jack's shoulder to sag. Defeated, he muttered sadly, "Just go away, Forrest. Leave me alone."

The middle Bondurant boy felt his chest clench. He knew Jack was mad but, gazing at his baby brother's utterly wounded expression, Forrest realized it was much more than that. Jack wasn't simply mad, he was hurt. Forrest reached once more for his brother, asking "Jackie, what's wrong?" only to have Jack jerk out of his reach yet again. Forrest paused. Then, he cleared his throat, squinting from the sun, and sighed. "Yeah, alright, enough of that."

With a fluid grace so quick Jack could do nothing but drop the bag of feed, Forrest caught him in a headlock.

"Now, I love you, Jackie. You are one of my favorite people in this whole world. You're my baby brother and you damn well know there ain't nothing I wouldn't do for you. But I am sick of your shit. You're gonna stop this bullshit right now and tell me what's bothering you."

Growling, Jack pathetically attempted to pry himself free of his brother's iron grasp. Unfortunately for him, Jack was many things, but stronger than Forrest wasn't one of them. He tried wiggling backwards, tried pinching Forrest's arms – that got his hands slapped. He tried to go limp and surrender his weight. That stunt nearly succeeded in choking him out. "Goddamn it, Forrest! Let me go!"

Twenty yards away, Emmy stood in the kitchen window, peering curiously out at her brothers. Ellie May drew to her side and Emmy asked, "What are they doin'?"

Her oldest companion and sister-in-law shrugged. "They're playin' around, I guess."

"I'm serious, For'est! Let. Me. Go!" Jack grumbled, his throat growing sore. His brother's strong-hold wasn't painful, necessarily, just tight, and the move he struggled, the worse it got.

"Keep on," Forrest told him. "I got all day."

"For-"

"I ain't playin', Jack. You aren't going anywhere 'til you tell me what's wrong…if this is about Willard, I just didn't want you having to get mixed up with the law, is all. 'Sides, Hodges and them don't have a snowball's chance in Hell of findin' the killer. They're gone close the case. It's all about over anyhow."

"They are? But what about Sophia and Morris? Why-" Jack began but he swiftly cut himself off, exclaiming, "Aw, hell, Forrest! It ain't about Willard!"

"Then what's it about?" Forrest's voice had softened a degree and he finally released his brother. Instead of immediately yanking away, Jack sort of slump against the chicken coup and ran his hands through his hair. His eyes turned red and suddenly all of his hurt and anger dissolved, fizzling into embarrassment. But then, as fast as it was gone, it came right back. What should he be embarrassed? This was _Forrest_. His big brother, his once best friend. There was a time when they'd shared a bed and protected one another from their conspiring sisters. A time when Jack wasn't embarrassed to tell Forrest _anything_, when Forrest always knew the answer to his problems. Only now Forrest _was_ the problem and that thought made him sick.

"What happened to us, Forrest?" His brother's brow dipped in confusion, so Jack elaborated, "You used to be my best friend but now you're…well, you're just not."

In an instant, Forrest's impatience and irritation at Jack's recent childish behavior vanished. The unwelcome emotions evaporated and he sighed, "Oh, Jackie…"

Motioning the mouth of the barn, Forrest followed Jack into the shade where they plopped down in the hay. Forrest's thick legs laid out in front of him, Jack's equally long legs folding beneath him. The older of the pair took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow and forehead. "Jackie, I don't…what me and Ellie May have, it ain't like wh-"

"This ain't about Ellie May." Jack rolled his eyes. He loved Ellie May like she was his own sister and that girl had been nothing but good for Forrest. Not to mention just about every childhood memory Jack possessed usually somehow involved Ellie May protecting him from Howard. "Forrest you've been different for a long time, long before you and Ellie May moved out. You done grown up too fast, Forrest. You should'a slowed down with the rest of us…"

Jack could name the exact moment when Forrest began to distance himself from Jack: as soon as she recovered from the Spanish Lady Flu, the morning when his long, blue face rejoined what remained of their family at the breakfast table. Forrest had been a quiet child, prone to long bouts of silence, feeling there was nothing really to add; what more was there for him to say? This seemed to be the rule of thumb with Forrest, except for when he and Jack were alone. Many nights in their rope bed, Jack had listened as Forrest delighted him with far-fetched tales about mobsters and pirates. But after the passing of their mother and sisters, Forrest withdrew even further into his own sphere.

Unlike the rest of the world, who put off becoming an adult until it was an absolutely inescapable reality, Forrest dove into adulthood head-on. He began at a young age to force the world to bend to his will. He would rise before dawn and top tobacco and pull suckers 'til lunch, then walk four miles through Snow Creek Hollow to the old lumber camp and work a crosscut saw 'til supper. The next day he would get up and do it again, seven days a week, substituting cattle work, hog butchering, haying, plowing, carpentry, all depending on the need for the labor, the season, and the paying customer. Then, Prohibition hit and Forrest let Howard drag him in to that racket. Eventually, he bought The County Line and married Ellie May. Long gone were the days when Forrest would chase Jack through the fields, hollering at the top of his lungs; long gone were the days when Forrest would push Jack on his old secondhand bicycle; long gone were the days when Forrest was still his biggest supporter.

In Forrest's mind, Forrest had become a successful adult and Jack was still a child, struck by idle fancy and frozen in adolescence. Such were Jack's gifts.

"What chu mean?" asked Forrest. He'd grown up too fast?

Fishing some Virginia dust out of the corner of his eyes, Jack sighed and pinned his brother with a sad stare, and began to speak…

Half an hour later, Emmy stepped onto the front porch to call Forrest and Jack in for lunch but the pair was nowhere to be seen. The young blonde chewed her lip. "Where'd they go?"

Poking her head back inside the house, she asked her family if they'd seen the missing boys. "Not since they were messing around in the yard," replied Ellie May, Cricket muttering much the same. Setting his tea aside, Howard hauled himself to his feet and snagged his hat off the counter, "I'll go get 'em."

It didn't take Howard long to find his brothers. A deep, full-bellied laugh drew him to the barn and there they were, cuttin' it up on a stack of hay bales. He snorted. _Looks like Jack and Forrest done made up. _"What're you jackasses doin' in here? C'mon, food's ready."

Jack turned first with a big smile, all teeth. "Hey, Howard."

Forrest merely nodded a greeting. The edges of his lips ghosted upward and he patted the bale of hay opposite him. "Have a seat. We were just catchin' up. S'been a while since me and Jack got a chance to talk what with me and Ellie movin' out and with the restaurant bein' so busy."

"Say, Howard," Jack spoke excitedly. "You doin' anything tomorrow after church? Me and Forrest were thinking about goin' fishing."

The look on Forrest's face told him he best not decline their invitation. Honestly, it'd been a little over a year since Howard had been fishing and a nice, calm day on the lake sounded kind perfect. "Yeah, kid, I'll go."

Jack couldn't believe he'd been so messed up over all this just a couple of hours ago, before he and Forrest had talked. Anger? What anger? Of course Forrest was still his best friend. Of course they were only protecting him. Why hadn't he seen that before?

Jack Bondurant smiled at his big brothers. All was right with the world.

* * *

He'd been planning this for a few weeks now. Ever since Ellie May admitted she didn't know how to ride a horse. When they were married, her parents had been well off enough financially that they'd owned their own car – there had never been a need for horses for her family. The Bondurants' situation was similar. However, when Forrest was younger, much younger, he used to go to the rodeos with Howard in Smyrna, Tennessee, and there were plenty of farms with horses around the county. So it nearly blew his mind when he learned that his wife had never ridden one.

It had taken him a while to organize. First, he had to talk to Dr. Cobbs and make sure their little activity would bring no harm to the baby. According to the Doc, Ellie May was nearly three months pregnant and doing fine, a little horseback riding wasn't going to hurt. Once Forrest knew their child would be alright, he set out to find a farm. He didn't just want to take her to any ole place; he wanted a farm with rolling hills on the mountain and a score of breathtaking trees, a place where they could watch the sun set on Franklin County.

And after two weeks of searching, he'd found just the place.

"Ellie May, you remember Mr. Gautier," Forrest introduced his wife to the farm owner. Arnold Gautier was a pure bred Cajun who moved to Blackwater fourteen years ago after a particularly vicious hurricane destroyed his home in a New Orleans swamp. While the hurricane might've made him homeless, Charlotte Harmon was what drove him to settle in the Virginias. Charlotte was a fine example of a woman, all blonde and blue-eyed. Her daddy was a rancher from Texas and that was how Arnold got involved with horses. Arnold raised racing horses on his farm, bringing up the finest Tennessee Walking horses and American Standardbreds this side of the Mississippi. It was rumored that he'd even raised up Man O'War, a legend among the horse races who'd retired only two years ago. In twenty-one races, Man O'War only lost once and his were the records to beat.

"Ma'am," Arnold nodded. "You can go on 'round back, Forrest. You know where everythang's at."

"What are we doing here, Forrest?" asked Ellie May as her husband led her passed the Gautiers' farm house to the horse stables. She heard the great beasts neighing before she ever caught sight of them. Drawing in her bottom lip, Ellie May fought a smile, her stomach beginning to churn pleasantly. "Oh, Forrest, what are you up to?"

"Just figured it was about time you learned how to ride, is all."

Her eyes became saucers as they entered the stables, the foul stench of horse manure slapping them in the face. "You want me to what now?"

The horses were marvelous and ginormous. They towered over her by nearly a foot and she couldn't help but snicker to herself at their resemblance to Howard. There were seven horses in all, including one pony. They were beautiful, magnificent creatures and when Ellie May tentatively reached up to stroke the mane of the one nearest her, she never thought she'd felt anything so soft in her life. "Forrest, they're darling…"

"That one there is Annabelle. She's a breeder. And this here," Forrest clapped the cream colored and brown spotted Tennessee Walking horse beside him. "-is Iberville."

"I bet he's quite the charmer," teased Ellie May. Forrest's eyebrows rose as he glanced suggestively towards the cream and black pony in the corner stall, "Yeah, you can say that. Well, come on, let's go grab you a saddle."

"Forrest, you can't honestly expect me to hop up on a horse, now. I don't know how to saddle the poor babies, much less how to ride 'em. Besides, I don't know if this is such a good idea. What if the bab-"

"Baby'll be fine. Doc Cobbs done said so," grunted Forrest as he heaved a saddle off the shelf and tossed it over Iberville's side. He made quick work of the tassels and belts before slapping a hand down on the saddlehorn. "Alright, c'mon."

Ellie May tucked her face into Annabel's mane, shielding herself behind the great beast. "No, thank you."

Forrest cut her with a droll stare. "Ellie, you ain't got no reason to be scared. I'ma show you how to do everything and I'm goin' be right her, holding the reins the whole time."

"You'll walk the horse for me?"

"The whole time," he repeated his promise. Nevertheless, Ellie May remained hidden behind Annabel until the horse's tail began to sway and a great burst of flies flew up from the horse's rear. Scurrying to get away from the hoard of flying insects, Ellie May surrendered herself to Forrest. "Okay, Mr. Bondurant, show me how to ride."

With a contented grin, Forrest showed his wife how to properly mount the saddle and helped her do so. Once she was firmly seated on Iberville, her face nervous but excited all at the same time, Forrest paused for a moment to let her absorb. "It's so high," she whispered. "Is this what you and Howard feel like all the time…? My goodness, to be tall."

After allowing her several moments to adjust, Forrest opened the stall doors and gently led Iberville out of the stable. They started off with a few meandering walks around the stable and barns, letting Ellie May get accustomed to the general stiffness of riding, the stress of movement heavy on the legs. Then, as she grew more confident, Forrest let Iberville take off into a slow trot. They did this a few times before Forrest brought the horse to a halt and asked Ellie May to remove her left foot from the stirrup. She did so and a beat later, Forrest thrust his foot into the hold and swung onto the horse behind her. As Ellie May was so small, there was just enough room for the both of them in the saddle and she squealed as he joined her.

"Forrest, what are you doin'?" she giggled, twisting to peer at him over her shoulder.

"I'm goin' take you for a ride." Tightly clutching the reins on either side of her, Forrest firmly secured Ellie May between his chest and Iberville's saddlehorn, before he thumped his leg against the horse's side and snapped the reins. They were off.

They galloped over the cascading hilltops and through pastures of tall Johnson grass and kudzu. They did a few giant loops, some fancy turns, and even jumped a fence. While the force of the heavy gallops was stressful on her legs, and though the saddle was less than comfortable, Ellie May could not stop the laughs that bubbled up her throat. Would Forrest ever stop surprising her?

They rode until the sky was streaked with the fading light of the sun, a giant, messy haze of reds, oranges, purples, and blues, the sun slipping behind the earth once again. Together, they watched the sunset atop Iberville on a little knoll that sat just North of Gautier's property. They did so with Forrest's arms around her waist, their hands clasped together, and when the last pink streak of light faded in the distance, Ellie May turned in her husband's arms and pressed her mouth to his. "How did I get to be so lucky?" she whispered, detangling one of her hands to stroke the tips of her fingers across his cheek.

Forrest said nothing but gave a soft smiled and tightened his hold on her, capturing her lips once more, before tugging on the reins. "We best get back now. It's getting too dark to see."

When they reached the stables, Forrest dismounted and lifted Ellie May off the horse as well, returning the saddle to its former position. He led Iberville back to his stall, watching Ellie May pet and rub the other horses as he did so. When he closed the gate on Iberville's stall, Ellie May held her hand out and stroked the horse's nose. "Thank you, friend," she told Iberville, kissing his sleek mane. "That was truly an experience to savor."

Once the horses were secure, Forrest took Ellie May's hand and led her back around the house. Arnold Gautier and his wife Charlotte were on the porch as they strolled by and after a few brief and kind words, the Bondurants headed back to their home. Upstairs in their bed, Ellie May laid curled on her side as Forrest undressed. "Forrest, that was…amazing, like it always is. But you know I don't expect you to go and do stuff like that all the time…you know I'll be happy whatever we do so long as I'm with you."

"That's kind of you to say, Ellie, but we both know you enjoy surprises, no matter how much you protest them."

Her cheeks flushed a tad and she shrugged. "They're just such wonderful surprises. Honestly, I don't know how you keep coming up with them! First it was the fireflies, then the those carnival animals at the train yard, now horseback riding…tell me, does anyone else know you're such a hopeless romantic?"

Finally prepared for bed, Forrest flicked off the light and took a knee on the mattress. He hovered over her and slowly leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her nose. His lips lingered there briefly, then trailed across her skin, grazing the tops of her cheeks and the curve of her chin, until eventually finding their way to her own. He tenderly caught her bottom lip in his mouth and nibbled softly. He felt her hands on him, heard the familiar, delicious hitch in her breath, and drew back, teasing. She gazed at him petulantly, her pouty lips wanting more, and he offered her a gentle grin. "No, they don't…but you do."

* * *

The overwhelming smell of iron was what first roused him from sleep. But he wasn't fully awake, not yet, not until he felt the silky wetness covering his hands. "What the…?" Forrest grumbled, blinking away the sleepy haze in his eyes. Lifting his hand to face, he saw the crimson stains shining in the moonlight that poured in from the window. That's when he looked down at his wife.

Ellie May was fast asleep in a giant pool of blood. _Her _blood.

* * *

**Ooh, a cliff-hanger! **

**On a totally unrelated note, a lot of you have been discussing the ending – will Ellie May stay? Will Maggie and Forrest still get together? There's also been quite a lot of talk about dramatic deaths…and I'm curious, **what do you guys think is going to happen?** More importantly, what do you **_want_ **to happen?**

**As always, my friends, I hope you have enjoyed! Now, review, please! (You know you want to.) **


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty

The overwhelming smell of iron was what first roused him from sleep. But he wasn't fully awake, not yet, not until he felt the silky wetness covering his hands. "What the…?" he grumbled, blinking away the sleepy haze in his eyes. Lifting his hand to face, he saw the crimson stains shining in the moonlight that poured in from the window. That's when he looked down at his wife.

Ellie May was fast asleep in a giant pool of blood. _Her _blood.

Panic laced Forrest's heart so intensely that it nearly paralyzed him. He fought for air, his head spinning, a mantra instantly beginning, _No. No. No. Not Ellie. No. _

Jolting up, he seized her arms, "Ellie May, wake up! Goddamn it! Wake up!"

His wife blinked furiously, yanking out of his grip. "What the hell, Forrest? Is the place on fire?"

"Ellie, thank God," he groaned, eyes misting over. _She was alive._ Slumping down, he tried to control himself, cradling her to him.

"Forrest, what...is that blood?" She grabbed his hand, swiping at the thick crimson liquid coating his fingers. "Forrest?"

He pulled away, cupping her face, streaking her cheeks with blood from his hands. "Ellie May, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He twisted out of her line of sight and when she saw the blankets soaked with blood a sob choked her, tears instantly pouring from her eyes. Like the voice in his head, she cried, "No. No. _No._"

"Ellie, I'm sorry…"

She had lost the baby.

* * *

After the miscarriage, Ellie May went to a dark place. Forrest about killed himself trying to get through to her. Day and night, he'd rack his brain desperate to think of something, anything to get her to see that the world would keep spinning. But it seemed the only person that could knock any sense into her was Lucy. And when Lucy arrived she and Ellie May mostly sat in back bedroom and cried together.

"This ain't healthy," grumbled Forrest, his teeth grinding in blind frustration. "I'm losing her, Howard."

Ellie May hardly ate, maybe a few crackers a day, and she slept even less. And when she wasn't sleeping, she was crying. The crying varied. Mostly, the crying consisted of a steady stream of silent tears pouring from her eyes. But, at night, when she thought Forrest was asleep, or in the late evenings when she assumed he was preoccupied with work, she would breakout into desperate, heavy sobs. Sobs so painful that her throat nearly bled, her entire being exhausted when they eventually subsided.

The crying spells lasted for four days. Once they faded, Ellie May merely sat in bed, gazing pitifully out the window. It seemed she simply had no more tears to spill. She said very little and flinched when someone else spoke. Slowly, she was becoming a shell of a person, a shell of the woman Forrest loved.

This darkness carried on for nearly two weeks until Forrest could finally take no more. He went to the only person he knew he could turn to in a moment of such devastation – his father.

Easing open their bedroom door, Forrest withheld a sigh. Ellie May was lying down, her back to the door, her frame so still it was almost as if she wasn't even breathing. He took a step into the room, a shadow lingering behind him. He felt the itch to clear his throat but he didn't want to startle her. When he spoke, his voice was soft, tentative. "Ellie May, there's somebody here to see you."

His wife didn't bother to turn as the shadow slid forward, gliding into the room beside Forrest. He approached the bed, his knobby, wrinkled hand finding its way to one of the iron posts. Papa spoke in a gentle, but no-nonsense tone, "S'time to wake up, Ellie May. I'll be on the porch. Come find me when you're decent."

Granville Bondurant had only been to The County Line restaurant twice before – once when Forrest bought the place, and once for the supper after their wedding. Despite her self-induced coma, Ellie May was able to recognize the importance behind his appearance. He hadn't come here for no reason and he wasn't suggesting that she meet him outside. He was _telling_ her to. She wanted to protest. Actually, she wanted to ignore the situation completely and forgo the effort behind fighting it. But no matter her mental state, he was still Papa and she had to respect him.

She took a moment to collect herself, sitting up in bed and staring out at the sun. She didn't bother to comb her hair, choosing instead to pull it up with a ribbon. It was too early for the restaurant to be open so she didn't bother with a fresh dress. Grabbing her robe off the hook on the wall behind their door, Ellie May eased her way down the stairs. The restaurant was empty and through the back window she could see Forrest and Howard chopping wood out back. Her husband's face was pained and every few seconds he was glancing at their home, either at their bedroom window, or at the back door. She knew he was worried for her and Ellie May wished the guilt she felt over his worrying was enough to snap her out of it. But there was a hurt so heavy on her heart at the loss of their child that she simply could not move on.

Ellie May stepped out onto the porch, her arms crossed over her chest, and raised her gaze to stare at Papa. The things that were to follow – what she saw when she looked at him, the things they discussed, and the way that Papa offered exactly what she needed without judgment – would forever be burned in Ellie May's memory. Not a day would pass from that moment on that she did not feel overwhelmed with gratitude for Granville Bondurant and all he had done for her. Especially at a time so critical, the time that she had needed a father most.

Papa sat in a rocking chair Forrest had but on the front porch just for him. He wore a thin, white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and brown dungarees, the cuffs red from the clay and dirt. In one hand, he held a green apple, a small pocketknife in the other. His eyes had the bluish gray color of a razor blade, the polished shine, the same color of Forrest's eyes. And, as he peered up at Ellie May, she felt a strange sharpness, almost painful, a cutting sensation, as if his razor-gaze was somehow slicing her open. In part, no doubt, it was her own sense of guilt over what she'd become and how it was effecting Forrest, but even so she was absolutely certain that the old man took one look at her and went right to the heart of things.

Papa made a clicking sound with his tongue. His fingers smoothed the knife through the apple. He offered the green slice to her and gestured that she take a seat. "S'a mighty pretty day outside…sun's shining, the bird's out…see that one over there in the pine? That's a chickadee. And that one there is a female red cardinal."

Ellie May frowned. "She's brown, 'cept for her head. I thought red cardinals were red all over."

Papa nodded. "They are, but only the males. A general rule in the animal kingdom is that the males of the species are more attractive. The way I see it, the lord realized his mistake with the animals and decided to make the females of the human race the fairer sex. S'why Howard's so funny lookin'." He waited for Ellie May's eyes to soften or her lips to curl even the slightest, but when she remained motionless, Papa nodded and took a bit of apple. He chewed slowly. When he swallowed, he offered her the rest of the apple. She declined with a shake of her head and Papa tossed the apple into the lot for the squirrels to nibble on. "Did Forrest ever tell you about Henry?"

Well, that got her attention.

It wasn't often that someone mentioned something in regards to Forrest Bondurant that she didn't already know. Eyebrows drawing together in the tiniest bit, she asked, "Who's Henry?"

"My wife…she got pregnant a few months after Forrest was born."

Ellie May's face instantly clenched. Forrest and Jack were several years apart in age.

"We were going to name the baby Henry after Dorothy's father, but she had a miscarriage three months before he was due to be born." Papa paused to observe Ellie May. Her expression remained tense but she was silent and attentive. "She had two more miscarriages after that, one right after the other it seemed, and the doctors told her that she couldn't have children anymore and that it was best if we stopped trying. But Dorothy…she loved children. S'just the kind of person she was. She always wanted a house full of youngin's. Well, 'bout a year after they said she was done, here comes little ole Jack and Emmy right after him."

Though she did not mirror Papa's small smile, her face relaxed and Ellie May calmly gazed out at the dirt lot. She thought briefly about Dorothy Bondurant, the fierce and respectable woman that she had been. Then, she thought about Lucy. Two completely different woman, both different from her in their own right, and yet, they all three shared the same awful experience. Her face crumbled as she attempted to comprehend and she asked Papa, "How? How did she deal with it? H-how did she…move on?"

"Well…" Papa Bondurant shifted in his rocking chair, slipping his knife into a pocket in his dungarees. He slapped his thigh. "I reckon it was easier for her to not think about it. Forrest was just a baby and he took up a lot of her attention, Howard, Belva, and Era, too. She loved those children and she channeled that love, harnessed it, to help her get by. Ellie May, folks can get through anything with enough love. And that boy in there-" He pointed back into the restaurant. "-_that boy _loves you more than anything in this world and has loved you since he was damn fifteen years old."

Papa's demeanor abruptly altered. Rather than maintaining his gentle and wise manner, he was all of sudden stern and in her face, his mouth set in a firm frown. "Do you know why we offered to take you in when you was a little girl? That Christmas when Forrest whooped your daddy, he came to us. He sat Dorothy and I down and told us he couldn't watch you suffer no more. That if he didn't do something he'd go crazy, prolly wind up killing your daddy."

Sighing, Papa shook his head and waved a dismissive hand, "Ellie May, that was a long time ago. Back before all this foolishness about the boys being invincible. Back before Forrest became what he is now, but I'll tell you what – I have never believed my son more than that night. There wasn't a single doubt in my mind that if your daddy had laid another hand on you, Forrest would have taken him out of this world. S'like I said, that boy loves you. Always has. Y'all gone get through this mess just fine."

* * *

When Forrest woke, the best was empty where his wife should lay. For a split second, a great pang of fear and panic struck him to his core. Then, in that very next second the smell of bacon grease tickled his nose. Blinking, he took a moment to listen, and looked out at the purple sky. The sun wasn't even up yet. Howard was up in Penbrook with Lucy and no one ever came to the restaurant before eight so he determined that the early morning chef must be his wife.

Clambering out of bed, Forrest slowly dressed for the day and sent a silent pray up to Heaven.

Her back was to him, her hair freshly washed and hanging in loose, wet curls down her back. A few strips of bacon were frying in a skillet on the stove and, as she stirred a pot of grits, she plucked one of the strips out of the grease and popped it straight into her mouth. It was the first time Forrest had seen her eat something other than toast or crackers in fifteen days.

"You gonna just stand there or you gonna fix yourself some coffee and have a seat?"

Her voice jarred him and Forrest gave a quick, but grateful smile. He moved around her to the coffee and poured himself a cup, pressing a kiss into her hair as he went. After the bacon finished sizzling up, she placed the strips on a plate and began frying a few pancakes in the bacon grease. "There's some strawberry and fig preserves in the cooler. Get 'em for me?"

They ate breakfast together at one of the restaurant tables, Ellie May glancing shyly at him over her fork. She sipped on a glass of milk, turning her nose up at Forrest's coffee, and when their plates were cleaned she pushed the dirty dishes aside and reached over to wrap her fingers around his hand. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I don't want to think about it. I just want us to be normal again and I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to…to…"

Forrest laced their fingers together. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "C'mere."

Standing, Ellie May took her time getting around the table to his lap. The moment their bodies met, she curled into him, her arms weaving around his neck, her face pressing into his chest. "God, I missed you."

His fingers tangled in her hair and he breathed her in, his eyes clamping shut to forced back down the swell of his stirring emotions. "Missed you, too, Ellie."

That afternoon Forrest closed the restaurant. Forrest wanted to spend some time with Ellie May now that she was trying to come back to the real world. No one made a big fuss. The first four days after her miscarriage, The County Line had been shut down and the hours of operation had been sporadic in the days that followed.

The young couple went on a stroll through the forest picking blackberries and such. The little sour fruits stained their hands all kinds of shades of red and purple. After a couple handfuls, Ellie May's fingers looked like they were bleeding and Forrest brought the tips of her fingers to his lips. He kissed the pads, his tongue swirling over the salty flesh, licking her fingers clean of blackberry juices. They hadn't been intimate since the miscarriage, their contact consisting of gentle caresses and a single kiss pressed into her temple every night. And when he kissed her palm and the inside of her wrist, Ellie May cupped his cheek and drew his mouth to hers.

* * *

Affairs at The County Line returned to normal fairly soon. The restaurant stayed packed with bodies, most rowdy and looking for a drink, some in search of a hot meal. Production on the mountains continued and the boys were pushing the apple brandy and white lightning as if the stuff were made of liquid gold. Which, to most folks, it was.

Jack, Forrest, and Howard had taken their fishing trip and enjoyed it so much they'd been on two more since. That Saturday night the Bondurants were having a fish fry at the farm and as Ellie May dumped out the final ash trays, she spotted Everett, head tucked to his chest, preparing to trudge home.

"Hey, Everett," she called before he had the chance to disappear into the night. She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. The tall boy looked at her, his black hair in tuffs around his ears, with a polite, questioning stare. "You hungry?"

The fish fry was already well under way when Forrest, Ellie May, and Everett arrived at the farm. Papa was set up by the picnic table at the mouth of the barn and a small bonfire licked at the velvet night sky a few feet away. Howard was kicked up beside the fire, a glass of sweet tea in his lap, hat pulled low over his eyes. Jack was helping their father cook the fish, Emmy and Cricket nowhere in sight.

For dessert, Ellie May had prepared two pans of banana pudding topped with sugar cookies and as she struggled to climb successfully out of the truck without sloshing the pudding too much, Everett swiftly took them from her. She chided him tenderly, "Everett, honey, I can get it."

He insisted. "Where do you want 'em?"

"You can take them in the house. Set 'em on the table. Thank you." She patted his shoulder affectionately as he stalked dutifully toward the house. Ellie May cut her eyes at Forrest as he trudged away to where his family was gathered. "You ought to take a lesson from Everett on manners there, Forrest."

Forrest sheepishly shot her a grin and wrinkled his nose. "Sorry. He looked like he got it, though."

"Mhmm." Tempted to tease her husband some more, Ellie May decided against and made her way up the front porch steps. Emmy was standing at the kitchen counter, white as a sheet, her hands ringing the life out of a worn dishrag. The banana puddings sat on the table, as she'd asked, and Everett was paused beside them. They turned as she entered the house and Ellie May snickered at the teenagers. "Y'all alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," murmured Everett. He stole a final peek at Emmy, tilting his head her way, before turning on his heels and retreating to the yard.

Ellie May rose an eyebrow. "What was that about?"

"Who invited Everett?" Emmy barked.

Jerking to a stop, Ellie May scoffed, "I did. Why? What's wrong? You like Everett, everybody does. He's a good boy. Did something happen?"

"No, but…" Emmy huffed, dropping the rag in the sink. "This is a _family _gathering. He's not family."

"Emmy Jane Bondurant. No, ma'am. You know better than that. We are not stingy, selfish people. Now, Everett is a kind, intelligent, and _decent _young man and you will not treat him with disrespect or rudeness, do you hear me?" snapped Ellie May, her teeth damn near grinding in a sudden flare of anger. What was wrong with Emmy? She'd always liked Everett and there had never been a problem between them before.

"No, it's not…I just-" Emmy gave an abrupt whine. She spun into the sink, shoving her face into her hands, her skin flaming red. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just wish I'd known he was coming, is all."

Ellie May's brow drew together. She crossed her arms over her chest, gliding across the hardwood floors to stand at Emmy's side. "Why? Emmy, what's wrong?"

Emmy slowly lifted her head. She was biting her bottom lip and she glanced out the window. Everett was lingering around the fire, Forrest on one side, Jack on his other. Emmy sighed and shrugged. "He's just…it's different because he really isn't family and I don't mean that ugly. If I'd known he was coming and it just wasn't going to be my brothers I would've…I don't know, dressed up a little, is all."

And just like that the light clicked on in Ellie May's head. Her mouth formed a small 'o' and she let her arms fall to her sides as she giggled. "Honey, you _like_ him."

"I do not," Emmy instantly professed. "But he _is_ a boy."

"A cute boy."

"Ellie May!"

"What? I'm married, not blind. But don't worry, he's not my type anyway. Too skinny."

Emmy rolled her eyes at Ellie May's teasing and groaned sharply. "Please don't say anything in front of them. Especially Howard and Jack, please."

"So you _do _like him?"

"No! But even if I tell them that, they won't believe it."

Ellie May smirked. "Not sure if I believe it myself but alright. I won't say anything." Ellie May glanced at the stovetop where a pot of greens were boiling, a ham hock bouncing around in the dark water. "You got anything in the oven?"

"Some hushpuppies. Why?"

Ellie May peeked into the belly of the stove. The hushpuppies still had another ten or fifteen minutes. Grabbing Emmy's wrist, she decided the food could be disregarded for a few minutes and she led the young girl into their room. Or, rather, it was just Emmy's room now. Ellie May instructed the girl to have a seat on the bed. She fished around the bottom drawer of the dresser and found some pretty ribbon, snatching Emmy's brush off the nightstand.

"What're you doing?"

"You'll see."

Ellie May braided Emmy's bangs across the top of her head, sweeping the braid back and over her right shoulder. She made a nice, little bow out of the ribbon, tying the loose end of the braid securely. She told Emmy to sit tight and, after taking another look at the hushpuppies, went to Papa's room. Two minutes later she approached Emmy holding a lovely, lavender dress. The dress was longer than most of the ones Emmy wore and would brush the ground when she walked. The neckline was narrow, scooping down to show just enough cleavage, the sleeves flowing to her elbows. It was high-waisted, a cream ribbon cinching the dress just below the breasts.

Ellie May held the darling garment out to Emmy. "This was one of your mother's favorite dresses. Every year on your parents' anniversary, she would wear it. She said it made her feel like a woman, pretty and proud. Here. Put it on."

When the girls joined the men outside, their arms full of food, Ellie May hoped Emmy noticed the polite way that Everett was trying not to stare. Papa, Howard, and Forrest recognized the old, lavender dress and Papa smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly. He wrapped his arm around his daughter's shoulder, fingering the sleeve, "Now, don't that fit just right."

Emmy smiled.

Everett smiled, too.

* * *

**Hey, everyone. Hoped you liked this one! I know it was pretty dismal there in the beginning but I tried to end on a lighter note. **

**It seemed like everyone's opinions for how the story is going to end is pretty evenly split – half of you think Ellie May is going to die, the other half think Ellie May is going to take over for Maggie in the movie. It's interesting. I'm wondering why you guys think what but I'm loving all the feedback! So keep it coming and I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens! **

**There are still about ten chapters left but I'm going out of the country June 30th (I will be in France and Italy in July and August so if I have any readers there let me know!) and won't have time to update for about two months. Rather than leave you hanging until September, I'm going to try and finish the story before I leave. Encouragement/nagging will make me finish faster! **

**Anyhoo, I am excited to see how you guys react to the rest of the story. Please continue to let me know what you think. Love you, all! **


	32. Chapter 32

**A major thank you to the following for your sheer awesomeness!: **Dasiygirl95, Not. So. Typical. Girl, Kay1104, Wolflihood, Erin, Jessilyn82, KaicherAlfstan, xodaniellaaox, IsYourH3artTaken, 26RH, Lulu, savyleec, Anissa990, JohnnyStormsGirl, ShawnB, Joe D, freespirt, Ananiliax, time is a waste of life, Jamie, GuestSMC, Jocy723, justrae9930, Fiona, Hiaia, , Gems123, York, **and all you lovely **Guest **reviewers! Thanks a billion for all your support and kind words, guys. They mean the world.**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-One

"I think we should get a dog."

Forrest glanced up from the book keeping splayed out before him. The look he gave his wife clearly asked, _Have you lost your mind? _

Ellie May plopped down at the table beside him. She pushed away his records and the stacks of bills. She took his hands in hers and argued, "Forrest, I want to get a dog. A big dog. Huge. I want a massive, cuddly, loyal dog."

The crease between Forrest's brow deepened. "Where's this comin' from?"

"The Smooters up in Penbrook, you know Howard and Lucy's neighbors, their dog just had puppies and Forrest they are so cute! They're just so fluffy and their little tails are adorable, always waggin'. Oh, come on, now, don't give me that face. Forrest, you should have seen those puppies! And you know I've always wanted a dog, it's just never been practical to get one before." She squeezed his hands. "Please?"

"I…you don't…uh," grumbled Forrest, refusing to hold her gaze. "Umm…" They had no reason to get a dog. Damn things had fleas and ate just about everything – furniture, food, small children. Not to mention that they were filthy, always slinging around mud and dirt, and shittin' everywhere. "Now, Ellie…"

With a sigh, Ellie May released his hands and leaned back in her chair. Her face contorted into a bemused expression. "Maybe I should reword myself…Forrest, we're getting a dog."

His lips parted, an argument saddling his tongue. Maybe he could try to refuse, put his foot down and all that. But, the sad truth of the matter was that it wouldn't do any good. He couldn't tell Ellie May no if his life depended on it. Sighing, Forrest licked his lips, nodding, "Thanks for the warning."

She stood, chair scraping the floor, to give him an affectionate kiss on the crown of his head. "You're welcome. I need you to help me find one."

He snorted. Figures.

She placed her hands on his shoulders. "This is a good thing, I promise. A dog will make me very happy. Besides, in a few months the baby will need someone to play with and there aren't any other young children around here so I figure a puppy will have to do…"

Forrest half-turned in his chair. His eyes darted back and forth between her impish face and the flat, soft surface of her stomach. "Uh, you mean…?"

She grinned. "That's right, Mr. Bondurant. We're pregnant, again."

* * *

Days turned in to weeks and weeks became months. Before anyone knew it, the leaves on the trees began to change and October was upon them. Suddenly, the Virginia countryside and mountains were covered in the colors of fall – deep reds, bright oranges, and golden browns – leaves swirling on the ground as cars and trucks zoomed passed. With each passing day Ellie May's stomach grew. She was now four months pregnant and swollen like a watermelon, her tummy smooth and round. And in those four months, Forrest hadn't let her lift a finger.

"No more workin'," he'd told her the night she announced that they were expecting. "I want you to take it easy. You're just gonna rest and relax. We ain't taking no chances."

At first, she'd tried to reason with him, putting up a few measly arguments here and there. "Sweeping the floor and taking orders isn't exactly strenuous labor."

But he had remained firm. "I don't care, Ellie. I'll have Doc put you on bed rest if I have to. I'm serious, now. We'll drag Emmy in here if we have to."

When he said that, Ellie May's gaze flittered to the bar. Everett stood behind the counter chatting quietly with the breakfast crowd, Mr. Alton Abrams, who sat eating the same breakfast he ate promptly at seven-thirty each morning - scrambled eggs, a side of grits, two pieces of toast. Extra pepper on the eggs. And a coffee, black.

Ellie May smirked, her gaze lingering on Everett. "Yeah, let's get Emmy in here. The company might do her some good."

Well, they did get Emmy in there; it wasn't too often but once or twice, occasionally three times, a week, Emmy would come up to The County Line and help out in Ellie May's stead. Abigail took over most of Ellie May's duties now that her three children were grown enough not to need her so much in the evenings. Ellie May felt guilty about the entire affair but Forrest was staying true to his word. He _hadn't_ let her lift a finger and most of her time was spent with her feet propped up, a bowl of strawberries in her lap – she'd developed quite a taste for the red fruit and twice just that month Forrest had driven all the way to Roanoke to get her a fresh batch.

Everyone took it as a good sign that her belly grew so big so fast. Though no one said it aloud, their entire family and their small circle of close friends remained on edge as far as the pregnancy was concerned. No one wanted to treat this like anything other than a normal pregnancy but, with her previous miscarriage lingering in their minds, they were afraid to get excited about the coming new life.

"I'm not saying you'll lose this one, too, I'm just suggesting that you wait to pick a name until the baby's born," advised Lucy one evening. She and Ellie May were spread out on a blanket in the yard of the Bondurant farm. The teenagers and their husbands were playing a game of keep away as they watched off to the side. Ellie May's hand glided slowly over the swell of her stomach, "I'm not going to be on pins and needles for the next five months. I'm just not. The stress won't be good for the baby and it won't be good for me or Forrest. This is a _normal _pregnancy and I will treat it as such. I will get excited. I will make baby clothes and buy baby shoes. Forrest will build a crib and a baby chair for the dinner table. And we _will_ choose a name. What kind of parents would we be if we didn't?"

"The kind that don't get hurt."

Ellie May looked to the porch. Papa sat on the porch swing, his pipe stuck out the side of his mouth, watching his family frolic in the yard. She thought about their talk. "Life isn't about avoiding pain, Lu. It's about having the strength and love to deal with it."

Two days later, Ellie May was reclined against the headboard of their iron bed, a notebook in her lap. Next to her in the bed lay a forty pound Golden Retriever named Dixie. Just as Forrest had been true to his word regarding Ellie May's takin' it easy during the pregnancy, she had stuck to her guns regarding getting a puppy. They had gotten Dixie from Lucy and Howard's neighbors, the Smooters, the ones whose dog had puppies. She was two months old when they got her and no bigger than a jar of rotgut. Now, she was a fairly decent size, and sturdy. She was a charming and beautiful animal with a thick, feathery coat of fur, and a long muzzle that tapered down to a brownish-black nose. Her eyes were large and dark and so damn human looking that Forrest felt awkward changing clothes with her in the room.

As he'd suspected, the dog had caused Forrest nothing but trouble – chewing the toes of his shoes, peeing on the rugs, whining and whimpering all hours of the night – but one thing could be said about the damn dog that couldn't no one disagree with: that dog loved Ellie May.

Dixie followed Ellie May around like, well, hell, like a puppy. Wherever Ellie May went, Dixie was sure to follow. Forrest wasn't too happy about it for the first few weeks, especially when the dog tried to sleep with them in their bed, wanting to snuggle up to Ellie May, but he'd eventually gotten used to it and knew that the dog was a beacon of comfort for his wife and so he did what Forrest does – stuffed his hands in his pockets, grunted, and simply dealt with it.

Ellie May turned the page in her notebook, her eyes skimming the list of names as she ran a hand over Dixie's back through her soft, dull yellow fur. "What about Hoyt?"

Forrest shot her a single, blank stare. Rolling her eyes, she withheld a giggle and scratched through Hoyt. Her fingers stroked through Dixie's fur and when she reached the dog's ears, Dixie's tail began to thump wildly against the bed. The next name on the list was Joshua, a good, strong name. When she declared the name aloud, Forrest shook his head. "Too many already."

Huffing in frustration, Ellie May scratched out Joshua. "There's only one more left. Graham. You've already shot down all the other names I liked so Graham it is unless you've got something better."

Forrest was silent for a moment, deep in thought, before eventually shaking his head. "Don't like Graham, either."

"Don't know why y'all are fussin' about it." A long, thick frame filled their doorway. Howard, eyes bloodshot from exhaustion having spent three days at the still alone, gave a lazy grin. "You know damn well y'all gone name that baby after me if it's a boy."

Ellie May couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up her throat. "Of course, how silly of me. I completely forgot we agreed to do that. What about you, Forrest?"

Her husband's face scrunched. "I didn't agree to shit."

The eldest Bondurant male ran a hand through his thick, tangled curls. "Yeah, well, we got everything squared away out back so I'm headin' out. Night, little brother. Ellie May."

Forrest inclined his head as way of goodbye, Ellie May murmuring a soft, "Goodnight, Howard." Then they were alone once again.

Well, except for Dixie.

Setting her notebook aside, Ellie May ignored the glare Forrest sent her dog and asked, "Are we ever going to decide on a name?"

"When we find the right one we'll know," answered Forrest simply. He needed to get back downstairs. Hal had left hours ago. Jefferson shortly after him. That left Everett alone to close the restaurant down for the night since he was upstairs with Ellie May. But, Forrest couldn't bring himself to leave her just yet.

He joined her on the bed, shooing Dixie away, the dog giving a half-hearted whimper and curling up on the floor beneath the window. His hand found her right knee, his lips pressing blindly into the side of her face, and he began to softly knead the flesh there, massaging her leg. Two minutes into the massage and Ellie May was practically purring. She turned her face to his. Cupping his cheek, she caught his bottom lip between her own and nibbled. A happy hum rumbled her throat. She continued to tug playfully at his lip as his gentle fingers climbed higher, now kneading her inner thigh. "Keep that up," she breathed. "-and you won't ever leave this bed."

"Not much of a threat, Ellie," Forrest replied, his breath hot on her mouth. He felt her quiver beneath his touch and a satisfied sense of pride roared to life within him. He loved kissing her. And caressing her. And pleasing her. And-

The sound of shattering glass pierced the quiet night air.

"Shit," grumbled Forrest. He had detangled himself, muttered, "Stay here," and disappeared downstairs all before Ellie May could blink. Her face flushed, she slumped against the pillows. "O-okay."

Downstairs, Everett stood with a broom in one hand, a bloodied rag in the other. A pile of broken glass lay scattered at his feet. When Forrest approached, Everett winced. "Sorry. Tried to carry too much at once."

Forrest nodded, taking the broom from him. "Need to slow down…let's take a look at that." He reached for Everett's hand, the one swathed in the now stained rag. The young man's face remained stoic as Forrest peeled away the rag to reveal a cut so wide that it stretched across Everett's palm from thumb to pinky. Blood poured form the wound, rivers of crimson flowing down his arm to drip onto the cut glass below. "Yeah, we'll need to ride into town. Let the Doc take some stitches to it."

Everett had been working for Forrest long enough to know that arguing was out of the question. So, rather than put up a futile protest, he merely gave a slow nod and told his employer he would pay for the broken jars. Forrest replied saying he would take the money out of Everett's next paycheck, a statement he had no intention of fulfilling, and told the young man to fetch another dishrag. The first one was soaked through.

About that time Dixie came trotting down the stairs and went straight for the pile of glass, shoving her nose right into the debris. "Damn it, stop that," growled Forrest through clenched teeth. He shooed the dog away with the broom and began sweeping up the mess. Ellie May appeared at the top of the stairs a moment later and hollered, "Anybody down there dead or dying?"

"No, ma'am," Everett called back. "It was just me being stupid."

Ellie May's eyes widened when she caught sight of his hand and Forrest met her as she reached the bottom of the staircase. He kissed her cheek. "I'm gonna take him to see Dr. Cobbs in Rocky Mount. Shouldn't be long but I'm gone go ahead and lock up. Keep the dog with you."

"Yes, sir," she muttered, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. "Everett, sweetie, I'm sorry about your hand. Why don't you take tomorrow off and enjoy the weekend? Let that try and heal up a bit, huh?"

"That won't be necessary, Miss Ellie May, but thank you."

Forrest grunted. "She wasn't making a suggestion. You're not coming in tomorrow and that's that."

Half an hour after Forrest and Everett departed for Rocky Mount, Ellie May and Dixie were snuggled nicely in her and Forrest's bed when a pair of headlights pulled into the lot. "They couldn't be back so soon," Ellie May told Dixie, the dog tilting her nose forward as if she fully comprehended. Ellie May climbed from the bed, Dixie following, to peer out the window. Two figures emerged from the truck, but it was too dark to make out much more than their figure. She grabbed the shotgun from Forrest's side of the bed, just in case, patting her leg for Dixie to follow.

"Forrest?" she called from upstairs. "Everett?"

No reply came and the dog scuttled ahead of her. When Dixie reached the floor of the restaurant, her tail ceased all wagging and a low growl began to brew in the dog's chest. This caused a frown to tug on Ellie May's lips; Dixie never growled. Or barked, for that matter.

Raising the shotgun, she swiftly descended the stairs and sought refuge behind the bar. Dixie fell in step beside her, hovering at Ellie May's side as she knelt behind the safety of the counter, gun poised. She'd picked the perfect spot. There, she was concealed from sight and could duck into the kitchen if need be. But, she could see the front door of the restaurant perfectly, as well as the windows on either side.

She could easily make out the shapes of the two strangers drawing closer on the porch. They advanced towards the door and gave the handle a few jigs. When that provided no results, they tossed a rock through the window and it was all Ellie May could do not to scream. Her clutch on the gun quivered, Dixie's hair standing up on its ends, the dog rising up on its haunches, preparing to attack.

The men entered the restaurant quietly, grumbling to one another in low tones. She waited until they were close enough for her shot to be a guaranteed hit. Then, she pulled the trigger. Now, Ellie May had shot plenty of times before. However, during none of those shootings was she pregnant as a whale and perched precariously on the heels of her feet. In such a state, the recoil from the firing landed her on her ass. She cried out in shock, Dixie releasing a great, whooping bark. The man she'd shot fell backwards, crashing to the floor, blood spraying across the hardwood. His companion jumped and withdrew a pistol. From her seat on her ass, Ellie May raised the shotgun at the still-standing intruder. "Get out. Not. Before I shoot you, too."

The man sneered. His face was half-hidden in the shadows. There was something sinister about only being able to see the right side of his face. "You mangy _bitch._ You just shot Dallas."

Ellie May pumped the forend of the shotgun, the spent shell clattering to the floor. "You and Dallas broke into _my _home, you sorry piece of shit. I've got every right to shoot you both. Now get the fuck out and take your friend with you," she spat in disgust.

The stranger cocked his pistol but before Ellie May could fire a great blur burst into the room and tackled the man to the floor. The man's yelps of pain were drowned out by Dixie's bellowed barking as the blur pummeled his fist repeatedly into the stranger's face, blood spurting left and right. "You don't fucking touch her," the blur growled, raising to his feet and pulling the intruder up with him. He drug the intruder out by the collar of his shirt, slinging him out into the dirt, before returning inside to drag his companion, the one she'd shot, outside as well. Dixie followed, lingering on the porch steps, growling menacingly at the groaning, bloodied bodies in the dirt.

The blur helped Ellie May rise to her feet, her arms shaking from adrenaline, fear, and the recoil from the shotgun. Howard gently stroked the hair from his sister-in-law's face. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice deep with concern. Ellie May nodded, turning in his arms to hug him, "I have never been so happy to see you in my life, Howard Bondurant…I thought you were going home?"

"Too tired," he mumbled. "I passed out in the back room on some packing crates."

"That's pitiful, but I'm glad you did."

"Heard you fire the shot, and the damn dog barking," explained Howard. His eyes swept over her frame. He laid a hand on the curve of her swollen stomach. "You ain't hurt, are you? Did the-"

Ellie May shook her head. "They didn't touch me. I shot 'em before they got close enough."

She saw Howard's white teeth in the moonlight as he grinned. "Good girl. Did they say who they are? What they want?"

"One of them's named Dallas. He's the one I shot. But no, they weren't exactly chatty."

Once more, the eldest Bondurant smiled as he rolled up the sleeves on his shirt. "Well, let's go ask 'em, huh?"

Outside, the two men were collapsed on the ground. Blood smeared the red clay from Dallas's bullet wound. The other stranger was up on his elbow's crawling through the blood, demanding that his friend get up. "Naw, he ain't goin' nowhere," declared Howard as he descended the porch steps, Dixie backing up to stand beside Ellie May, her menacing growls dissolving. Ellie May wanted to go upstairs. She wanted to seek comfort in her bed, to not watch what was about to transpire, but there were two of them. And even though one had been shot, and even though Howard's physical superiority was virtually uncontended, with everything that had happened lately, she worried that others might come.

And so, with the shotgun in hand, Ellie May stood on the porch and she watched but tried to not see.

It wasn't so bad, honestly. Mostly it was just Howard asking questions and then punching the guy when he didn't answer. Or stepping on the other's guy's chest where he'd been shot. Painful cries ripped through the night air, the awful sounds of agony echoing off the mountain.

Howard spat, wiping sweat from his chin. He snatched the man's arm, his foot squishing the stranger's face into the dirt as he bent and twisted the arm backward. He heard the gratifying snap of the man's shoulder popping out of place, the muscles of the rotator cuff tearing. "I'm going to ask you one more time, motherfucker. And that's it. Why _are you here?_"

Tears pooled in the corners of the man's eyes. He grasped pathetically at the ground. His body wiggled in pain. He tried to push himself up and release some of the pressure on his shoulder but Howard ground his foot further into the man's face. "I don't think so. You've got three seconds."

Howard pulled harder.

"Alright, okay! Alright! Just stop! Stop!" The stranger sobbed. "My name is Charley DuPree. That's Dallas Marshall. We're from Detroit."

Howard instantly released his grip. He backed up a hair. "Detroit? You work for Vaught…?"

The stranger slumped against the ground. He rolled slightly, cradling his arm. He sniffed and blinked a few times. "Yeah…yeah, we work for him. Look, we weren't gonna hurt her! We were just gonna rough the place up a bit, break some shit. We didn't even know she was here!"

"You weren't gonna hurt her?" scoffed Howard. He kicked the intruder's side, earning a deep groan. "That's why you pulled a gun on her?"

"She shot Dallas!"

"Because you broke into my home!" snapped Ellie May, the shotgun limp at her side. Her back was beginning to ache, her stomach heavy. She was tired with this. Her adrenaline had faded, the stress and fear of the moment worn off, and now all she wanted was for this to be over already. Even Dixie had had enough. The Golden Retriever slumped against the poor, her muzzle and front paws hanging off the first step. She watched the seen with a dullness in her eyes. "Howard?"

He glanced at her and understood her weary expression at once. Giving a slow nod, he stepped around the stranger named Charley, to the man she'd shot, who had now passed out from either blood loss or trauma. He took the man by his arms, ignoring his friend's shouted protests, and dragged him all the way to the road, heaving his body into a ditch. Just as he reached the other stranger, preparing to do the same with him, a truck appeared on the mountain, the lights dim, heading straight for the restaurant.

Ellie May squinted. She lifted the shotgun, Dixie's head popping up. The truck pulled into the lot, the engine dying immediately, the driver exiting the cab. It was Forrest. He'd taken Everett into Rocky Mount, got him stitched up, and then taken him home. Now, as he stepped out of his truck, his feet heavy as they hit the dirt, his chest tensed and his face set into a hard way. He looked from his wife, to his brother, to the stranger moaning on the ground. A foul anger seized him as he noticed the shotgun in Ellie May's hand and the busted window.

Ellie May saw the rage building behind her husband's eyes and sighed. It was almost over. Almost. Lowering the gun, she greeted Forest and told the boys that she was done. "I'm going to bed. Howard-" He peered at her questioningly. "-thank you."

Howard nodded softly and she spoke to Forrest. "Come to bed soon." Her voice was quiet and she debated asking him to just leave it alone. Howard had taken care of it. But she knew that wasn't how Forrest worked.

Turning, Ellie May called Dixie after her and disappeared inside.

* * *

**As always, I hope you enjoyed. I also hope you can forgive me for any grammatical errors. I'm awful at proof reading. And by awful I mean lazy. Sorry. **


	33. Chapter 33

**You have to believe me – I had no idea it's been almost a month since I updated. I swear in my mind I update like two weeks ago. I'm so sorry! Please forgive me and accept this chapter as a bribe. **

**A major, huge I-love-you-all-so-much-and-think-you're-the-cooles t-people-in-the-world **_**thank you **_**to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, to everyone who's been reading and following along and favoriting, you guys are awesome, too. I'm so thoroughly pleased you all are enjoying this story so much and I hope it continues to satisfy you. **

**Um, also, please forgive me for the **Batman **reference. I love the Nolan **Batman Trilogy **and simply couldn't help myself. Major cool points to any who catches the hint! **

**Now, let's see what's going on with those Bondurants we love so much…**

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Chapter Thirty-Two

Both of the men who had intruded on their home, Ellie May would come to find out, had died shortly thereafter. The man she'd shot, Dallas, died in a hospital little more than a week later, the itchy sheets soiled, his body odor rank from lying in his own filth. His legs had been meticulously shattered from hip to heel. That hadn't been what killed him, though. The no'count intruder had died from infection, a slow, near torturous death.

The other man's punishment had been more severe. After all, he had been the one to draw a gun on Ellie May. Though she never received the details, Ellie May was sure his death later that very night had been a gruesome affair. She almost felt sorry for him in a way. Almost. She wondered if those men had families. If they had wives and children and siblings and parents and cousins. If they had loved ones who would mourn their loss. If someone somewhere was searching for them. She wondered these things and hoped they did not. She hoped no one would miss them, that no children had been made orphans by her husband. But mostly, she wondered why those men had broken into her home in the first place.

Forrest tried explaining to her that some men just want to watch the world burn, but there was an itch in the back of her mind that she simply couldn't scratch. "You heard what he said, Howard," Ellie May murmured one evening. Her hands mindlessly caressed the roundness of her stomach, their child kicking away inside her, the sensation strange but not unpleasant. "They weren't here for the liquor or money. They were here to destroy this place…their message was pretty clear. You and I both heard them."

Howard's brow drew as Ellie May's face froze, the words barely leaving her mouth. Her eyes clouded over in, what the oldest Bondurant male assumed to be, thought. Then, her lips pulled into a thin like and she muttered, "A message…" And all of a sudden she was standing and waddling away. Howard cleared his throat and _humpfed_. He slumped back in his seat and closed his eyes, grumbling something that sounded a bit like, "…women."

Her husband was out back at the shed, his sleeves rolled to his elbows despite the winter chill. A shovel in hand, Forrest was busying himself by shifting the snow in front of the shed, attempting to clear a path to the door. He paused as she approached.

Arms crossing over her chest to fight the bitter cold, Ellie May asked, "Do you remember what you told me that night at the farm after y'all met Vaught's men after they paid those boys to steal the liquor?"

A brief look of extreme discomfort flickered across his face. Forrest resumed shoveling. "You don't need to be out in this cold. Go on back in the house. I'll be in after while."

"You told me you sent them a message," she continued firmly. "What was the message, Forrest?"

Her husband remained silent, scooping shovel-full after shovel-full of snow. The muscles in his jaw twitched with unease. He heard her frustrated sigh, heard the crunch of snow beneath her feet, and when she touched him, her fingers were so warm that the hairs on his arms stood on end. "Forrest," she pleaded, her voice soft as the fallen snow around them. "Just tell me. You don't have to carry this burden alone. Whatever it is, I can handle it. You don't have to hide from me."

Forrest stilled. "That what'chu think I'm doin'?" He propped the shovel against the shed and pinned her with a stern look. "Ellie May, I have never kept anything from you and I don't plan on starting now."

Her arms crossed over her chest once more. "Then why're you being so quiet about all this mess?"

He tried not to, but the Bondurant male couldn't stop his gaze from settling on her stomach. "You don't need to be worryin' about it."

Her frustrated frown dissolved. Arms slowly unfolding, she shifted her weight and said, "Who's the one worrying here? Forrest, you don't have to be afraid. We're not going to lose this baby. I can feel it. This baby is going to be born happy and healthy and into a family that loves it so much its not gonna know what to do with itself. Besides, you should know that _not _knowing will drive me crazier faster."

Forrest grunted. "Why don't you leave this one alone for me?"

"Because I shot a man, Forrest, and he is _dead _now. That's not something I can just leave alone." Ellie May was insistent. She drew closer to him, effectively trapping her husband between her swollen frame and the shed. Swallowing, Ellie May demanded, "What message did you send them?"

They were silent for a moment, both standing their ground. The woods around them were just as quiet. Many of the woodland creatures in their area had already burrowed in for the winter and those that hadn't were beginning to migrate further south. Their surroundings were covered in a thick blanket of white snow, the only sound being an eerie wind that drifted over the mountain. Finally, the stillness of the moment became too much and Ellie May's gaze narrowed. Forrest was not going to crack, it seemed. Her lips parted, prepared to fire off some caustic remark or another, but before she could speak, her husband beat her to it.

"We knocked 'em around a bit. Not all of 'em, mostly just the one that seemed to be in charge – Keller. We roughed him up pretty good." Though Forrest's words were in admission, a confession, his tone was anything but ashamed. He was simply stating a fact, albeit somewhat reluctantly given his wife's delicate condition.

"So what happened here…those men breaking in, it was retribution for what _you_ did…" The words rolled of Ellie May's tongue like a statement, not a question, but the accusatory tone that they held set Forrest's veins on fire. She was making him feel that sense of shame. Forrest knew that he was well within his rights as a man, knew that his actions had been justified, if not warranted. But her eyes held enough guilt and shame for him. And he hated that. So, rather than feeling ashamed, he got angry instead.

Forrest's shoulders tensed, his body instinctively bowing up in defense. "You seem to have forgotten that they started this shit-"

"They started it? Lord, Forrest, you sound like Jack! You're using the excuse of a child."

He gritted his teeth. "That's not what I meant and you know it," he growled. Forrest felt the shameful anger boiling inside him. He'd never lost his temper with Ellie May before and he never would. Clamping his eyes shut, he attempted to push away his rage. To calm himself.

He would not frighten her.

He wasn't sure how long they stood their, the steam rolling off his shoulders, but when he eventually gathered himself, he looked at her. Just looked. She seemed to understand what had occurred within him, saw the battle raging beneath the surface. She gave him a forced smiled and sighed, exhausted already. "I can't feel my feet."

In spite of himself, Forrest could feel the ghost of a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Told you its too cold." He shuffled his feet in the snow and moved forward to wrap his arm around her shoulders. He knew she was still mad at him, but that she had refrained from lashing out; she saw his anger and took the high road. She was the bigger person. The words 'I'm sorry' were dancing on the tip of his tongue. Ellie May squeezed his middle. "I know."

* * *

Jack had started lingering around The County Line a lot there lately. He thought no one noticed, often giving the excuse that he was just dropping Emmy off for work. But they had noticed. _Everyone _had noticed.

Jack Bondurant was nothing if not a boy that was hard to miss.

"Go home, Jack," demanded Howard. He and Danny were unloading a truck full of rotgut into the shed around back. Their cheeks were shining a brilliant red, their noses even worse earning a few Rudolph jokes from Ellie May and Abigail, and the men just wanted to be done for the day. "Ain't there work at the farm you gotta do?"

"Cabbage and tobacco are set for the cold and the animals already been fed," the younger Bondurant boasted. He reached for a crate crammed full of white lightning but Danny snagged it out of his grasp. "Whoa there, scamp. Why don't you let me get that?"

Jack reached for it once more. "I can carry it. Ain't that heavy."

"Yeah, but its real icy out. One of us might slip and drop it. I'd rather the gang get mad at me and not you. They'll just take it out of my cut of the sale, but they might take it outta your hide." Danny's logic was hard to argue with but Jack's pride took a hit nonetheless. He looked to Howard for support but his older brother shook his head.

"You know," Jack murmured. "It ain't too hard to make this stuff. I could help."

"How d'you know how to make it?" asked Howard, disbelief dripping with each word.

"Cricket told me how."

"Yeah? And where'd he find out?"

Jack shrugged lamely. "One of the guys on Smith Mountain must've showed him."

Howard's face contorted into a grimace of repugnance and his best friend let out a deep bellied laugh at the sight. "Those boys on Smith Mountain don't know how to make mule for shit," declared Danny between chuckles, his perfect, pearly white grin damn near blinding. "Might as well take a jar and piss in it if you gonna learn to cook liquor from them."

Jack gave a wicked grin. Danny's wording couldn't have been more perfect. "Why don't y'all teach me then?" he retord.

Truth was, Cricket never showed Jack how to make mule, because Cricket didn't know himself. The twins, Cal and Eddie, Danny's little brothers, swore up and down they knew how to make the stuff. Said they'd followed Danny one night a few years back to the still on Turkey Cock and that they'd been making their own ever since. Cricket and Jack both called bullshit on that one seein' as how no one they knew had bought liquor off Cal or Eddie, nor had anyone seen Cal or Eddie with anything even sort of resemble rotgut. Jack figured they were just mouthing off, trying to look impressive. And with Cricket and the Mitchell twins ruled out, Jack didn't know where else to turn. He was desperate. The whole country was blazing up with this illegal moonshine business ever since Prohibition first started but bootlegging had really hit its peak in those years and Jack was itching to have his hand in it.

"Aw, hell, now you done it," grumbled Howard, tossing Danny a glare.

"I'm serious! I'm a quick learner. Ask Ellie May."

"No, Jack. Just…no. Forrest don't want you gettin' mixed up in this mess, now. You hear? I mean it, Jack. You stay outta this racket. The gimp, too."

"Cricket ain't a gimp," spat Jack. "Howard, don't you think I'm old enough to start making matters up for myself?"

"Don't matter what I think," Howard grunted, dropping the final crate onto a stack right inside the front door of the shed. Damn thing was packed full.

Danny added, "He's right, kid. This is Forrest's restaurant. It's his operation now. Nothin' we can do about it."

"But he'll listen to y'all," pleaded Jack. The poor youngin' was practically begging. "C'mon, Howard, Danny. Put in a good word for me."

"Won't do any good. You know Forrest, he's like an old man – set in his ways," snickered Danny.

"Who're you callin' old, Mitchell? You're _older_ than me." Three heads turned – one quickly, two with a lazy grace – to see Forrest sauntering down the back steps. "But I see where you got confused seein' as how ninety percent of the time you act like a three-year-old."

Danny clutched his chest, over where his heart rested, "You always know what to say to make it hurt, don't you, Forrest?" Emmy appeared at the back door before Danny could continue teasing Forrest, so he opted to tease her instead. He swiped the hat from his head. "Evenin' there, Miss Emmy. I swear if you don't just get prettier every day."

The youngest Bondurant rolled her eyes. She was well accustomed to Danny Mitchell by now and such compliments, whether he meant them or not, seldom fazed her. "Jack, I'm ready to head home. You ready?"

Her brother straightened his shirt. He sent a pointed look to Howard and Danny. "Y'all think about what I said, now," Jack murmured real serious-like. Emmy scoffed, holding in a cackle of a laugh. She could only imagine what that was all about. Emmy waved him on. "Yeah, okay, Tony Accardo, they'll think about it real hard. Now, hurry up before it starts snowing again."

"Do you always gotta fuss?" asked Jack.

"It's not fussing-"

"Oh, well, than what do you call it?"

"I'm only saying! Jack, you can't drive into snow chains in the dark-"

"I can, too!"

"Oh, please."

"Will you two give it a rest, already?" boomed Howard over his younger siblings' squabbling. "_Damn_."

Her cheeks tinting pink, Emmy smirked and, in a moment of pure impishness, stuck her tongue out at Jack when no one was looking. Jack pointed his finger at her, "Now, that, you see that? That is pure childishness. I could understand y'all not wanting Emmy getting involved. See that _real_ easy."

"Involved in what?" asked Forrest, Emmy echoing his words, "Yeah, involved in what?"

"In the family business," replied Jack.

Forrest's brow dipped real low. He glanced at Howard but his brother just shook his head. He glanced at Danny but the eldest Mitchell boy simply smirked and shrugged. Finally, he glanced at Jack and Emmy gathered on the back steps. "You must be talkin' 'bout the farm…"

"You know what I'm talking about, Forrest," muttered Jack, finally appearing a little less confident.

A muscle twitched in Forrest's jaw. He pursed his lips. "Not sure I do, Jack."

Jack gave a frustrated huff and his lips parted as a plea bubbled up the back of his throat. Then, before he could argue his case, a sudden commotion from the restaurant sent Forrest, Howard, and Danny barreling inside. "What-ugh," Jack groaned, reaching after them. Emmy rolled her eyes at her little brother and followed the trio inside. Jack was quick on her heels.

Jefferson stood at the sink, a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth, smoke billowing up in coils around his dark face. The dishwasher's shirt was rolled to his elbows, his hands buried in the suds that filled the sink. He smirked at Emmy and Jack as they passed. He was completely unfazed by the uproar coming from the floor of the restaurant.

The pair of siblings danced through the swinging door of the kitchen and out onto the floor. Emmy nearly collided with Howard's massive back, as Jack squeaked, "What happened?" and skidded to a stop at the sight of his best friend splayed across the floor of the restaurant.

Ellie May turned to answer him but couldn't for lack of air in her lungs. She couldn't speak because she couldn't breathe and she couldn't breathe 'cause she was laughin' too damn hard. Mirthful tears pooled in her eyes, her cheeks flushing red and hurting from smiling too wide. At her side, Abigail was having a fit herself and even Hal, who stood behind the register his hands poised mid-air as he rung up a customer's receipt, was fighting a smile.

Howard's bushy brow furrowed. He glanced at Forrest, then at Danny. "What the...?" he grumbled.

"Cricket wanted-" Ellie May managed to choke out. "-he wanted to-" But she couldn't finish, her chest heaving with each laugh, her great belly shaking like Santa Claus.

"Cricket wanted to feel the baby kicking," answered Everett as he placed a plate of food on the counter, sliding the cubed steak and mashed potatoes down to a patron at the end of bar. The customer thanked him and immediately dove into his supper, the ruckus around him ignored. Everett nodded a silent 'you're welcome' and wiped his hands on the dishrag hanging out of his pocket.

"How'd he end up on the floor?" asked Danny.

Everett smirked. "The second he touched her stomach and that baby started kicking, his face went pale and he plum passed out."

Their faces fell, their eyes gazing down at the limp body of Cricket Pate, his legs all askew beneath him. "He...passed...out...?" repeated Danny with a scoff. "I tell you what there is somethin' wrong with that boy."

"Ain't nothin' wrong with Cricket," Abigail rolled her eyes. "He just wasn't sure what to expect, is all. You ever felt a baby inside a woman's stomach? It's strange alright. Even stranger for the woman. Ain't that right, Ellie May?"

"That's for sure," replied Ellie May, her giggles finally dying down. She rubbed the wide surface of her tummy and smiled down at Cricket, "Poor baby. Forrest, you should've seen his face. He put his hand on my stomach and the baby barely moved and he just went down. Like he'd been hit over the head, his eyes rolling back. It was very dramatic."

Forrest grunted. "I'll bet."

The restaurant continued with business around Cricket, patrons still drinking and laughing, Hal ringing up orders, Jefferson and Everett taking care of the kitchen's side of things, but Forrest couldn't just leave him lying there. So, he motioned for everyone to move back and knelt, looping his arms under Cricket's shoulders and hauling the tiny teenager to his feet. Cricket was practically a feather and Forrest carried him upstairs easily, laying him down on the couch by the window that overlooked the road. When he returned downstairs, Howard and Danny had disappeared and Emmy and Jack were saying their goodbyes to everyone, preparing to head back to the farm.

Forrest found his wife in his office, her feet propped up on the desk, her head leaned back, her eyes closed, her hands folded over her swollen belly. She hummed when he entered, "I haven't laughed that hard in a long time...I wish you could've seen his face. It looked just like your's the first time you felt the baby kicking."

Forrest frowned. Well, at least he hadn't fainted. He pulled the spare chair from the corner and sat down next to his wife. "He kicking now?"

"You're so sure it's a boy," Ellie May smiled wistfully. "Yeah, it's kickin'. Has been since about nine o'clock this morning. It's a busy little thing."

Forrest hands smoothed over her stomach searching for the feeling of life. Ellie May laid her fingers over his and guided their hands. The baby was resting low on the left side today. Yesterday, and most of the week before, the baby had preferred being on the right side of her stomach. Ellie May guessed the baby was getting restless and wanted to switch things up.

"I think it's anxious to meet us," she murmured. "Won't quit movin'."

Forrest smiled. He was anxious to meet his son, too.

* * *

**Sort of an abrupt ending. But I liked that last line enough to leave it. I'm so stinkin' sentimental, it's not even funny. **

**So we got to see a glimpse of what it's like when Ellie May and Forrest don't exactly get along. How was it? I know it wasn't too intense, but Forrest is great at controlling himself so I figured even an argument between them would be pretty mellow.**

**I guess I'm not going to finish this story before I leave for France seeing as how I have less than two week and I'm gone! I'll try to update while I'm abroad but…um…you guys know how I am. So we'll see, yeah? **

**Love! **


	34. Chapter 34

**An update – from France! **

**I'm going into week three tomorrow of my study abroad trip and so far it's been amazing! But we've been super busy. I think I've slept a total of seven hours in the two weeks we've been here. Honestly, I was only able to post this because we went to Italy this weekend and had a nine hour train ride. So, here you go! **

**We are approaching the end and it's actually a little shorter than I thought. We've got about five chapters left! It'll be strange to see it end.**

**Thanks for your patience, everyone. As always, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Three

Gummy Coleman's eyes burned somethin' awful. Squinting, he lifted his gaze toward the sun, instantly blinding himself. He blinked forcefully, little white dots splattering his vision. The white lightning was burning away at him, boiling him behind the eyes, inside his ears, and in the deep recesses of his throat. Gummy was a creature of habit, but liquor was the one habit he couldn't seem to develop a tolerance to. Every time he drank, he felt like a virgin. Felt that brand-new rush of somethin' more power than himself. Felt that insane sensation of losing himself and becoming a new being entirely.

There came a sudden _crunch_ behind him and he spun quickly. Too quickly. Dizzy, the liquor and blood went straight to the walnut he called a brain and Gummy fell to his knees in the leaves and Virginia clay.

"Who's'ere?!"

The slurred words came as a single holler. They echoed off the surrounding trees and were met with silence. He was alone, save for the squirrels and jack rabbits.

Crawling back to his cot near the tub, he studied their cleverly hidden still through blurry eyes. What a beauty it was. Such a marvel, the thing they'd created. Gummy eyes traveled over the brass coils, the mash boxes, the pipe of flowing water. And to think that contraption churned out the best damn thing in his life.

Gummy wouldn't know what to do with himself if he didn't have the still to look after. Hell, for the life of him, he couldn't rightly remember what he'd done before. He used to work his daddy's farm but his father had been claimed by the Lady Flu and after that Gummy had just drifted along finding odd jobs here and there, sleeping in stables and behind the feed store in Rocky Mount. When Prohibition hit, it was by pure luck that he'd gotten in on it.

Tom Cundiff had been lugging spring coils up the mountainside, half dragging himself under all the weight, when Gummy just so happened to by trudging by. Gummy offered a helping hand and Tommy just sorta started ordering him around after that. Gummy didn't particularly mind. He was a simple man. Taking orders came easy to him; it was when he started thinkin' for himself that things got rough.

"Hot damn, Coleman, you alive in there?"

Gummy liked to have jumped out of his skin the harsh voice was so sudden and close. He looked up at the giant looming over him. "Mornin', Howard," he grumbled, swallowing another mouthful of mule. He swiped the back of his hand over his lips, catching the few dribbles of liquor that escaped the corners of his mouth. "Whatchu doin' here? Ain't it Danny's day?"

"Had to get some more molasses."

That's when Gummy noticed the grate of empty mason jars in the Bondurant's grasp. Howard dropped the box by the tub and set about checking the brewing mash. His brow drew as he studied their stock, "I reckon this'll be ready by the time Danny gets up this way. You be sure to tell him that we need this bottled tonight, got that group from Atlanta ready to buy and we ain't got enough at the restaurant."

"Yeah, alright, I'll tell him."

The massive man turned from him, then, preparing to trudge onward, but before he reached the giant rock-face that marked their still, he paused. "You get any sleep last night?"

Gummy clucked his tongue thoughtfully. "Some."

"When was the last time you ate?"

When Gummy didn't answer, Howard figured it was because he couldn't remember. Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a cloth-swathed piece of fried steak Ellie May had cooked him for breakfast. He could still feel the heat radiating off the meat in his palm. With a regretful grimace, he cursed himself and tossed the steak to Gummy. "Eat. You need somethin' on your stomach, all that liquor you're choking down."

And with that he disappeared into the trees.

Gummy devoured the steak almost instantly. He was chewing the last fatty bit when the Bondurant male appeared in the tree line once again. Mouth half full, Gummy called, "You forget somethin'?"

But Howard offered no reply. Squinting, Gummy noticed a shadow fall on Howard's right. "Ah, s'at Danny? He's early!"

And then a third figure appeared and a bad feeling settled in the pit of Gummy's stomach. Maybe the greasy steak on his stomach wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Howard?"

The tall man stepped forward and the clear jar in Gummy's hand, the one with less than an inch of liquid left it in, fell to the forest floor. "Aw, _shit_."

* * *

Childbirth was something magical. Childbirth was an act so spiritual and powerful and wonderful, something to be revered, adored, something to astonish. But childbirth was also terrifying and incredibly painful.

In the days leading up to the birth of their child, it was all Ellie May could do not to vomit in fear at the very thought of what was to come. Y'all have to remember now, Ellie May's momma died during the still-birth of her little brother. Ellie May knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt that, if necessary, death was a price she was willing to pay if it meant that their child could live. She just rightly hoped it didn't come to that.

Forrest hoped that, too.

That man didn't have a clue what he'd do if he had to raise their baby without her. That was, of course, if he could survive without her all, which most folks had some serious doubts about.

But they remained hopeful and they prayed every night. Sometimes they prayed together. Sometimes apart. And sometimes Abbey or Papa Bondurant prayed with 'em.

And, as it turns out, all that prayin' paid off.

"I'm scoopin' up a baby bumble bee. Won't my mommy be so proud of me. Yes, I'm scoopin' up a baby bumble bee," sang Ellie May, her daughter on her lap, tiny fingers curled over her own as she made scooping motions with her hands. "Ouch!" she squealed, tickling the baby's belly, "That bee stung me!"

She rubbed her daughter's hands together and continued to sing. "I'm squashin' up a baby bumble bee. Won't my mommy be so proud of me. Yes, I'm squashin' up a baby bumble bee. Ew! Now, I'm all sticky!"

Ellie May wrinkled her nose and made a few silly faces. She brushed her daughter's hands, as if cleaning them of an invisible mess. "I'm washin' off a baby bumble bee. Won't my mommy be so proud of me. Yes, I'm washin' off a baby bumble bee."

She gently clapped their hands together. "Yay! All clean!"

The baby blinked several times, her little lips spreading in a small grin, barely showing her toothless gums.

"Is that my baby in there?" a voice called from the front. Moments later Abigail appeared in the doorway of Forrest's office. She immediately held out her arms for the baby. "Well, good morning, Miss Dorothy Grace! How are we doin' today?"

"It's been a good mornin' so far," Ellie May replied on her daughter's behalf. "She woke up at four again. But, of course, that's no problem for her. She can nap whenever she pleases... her momma is not so lucky."

"Well, sugar, I've got her now," said Abigail, Grace snuggled in the cocoon of her arms, chubby little hands reaching and fisting in the waitress's hair. "Why don't you go-"

"Oh, no you don't," declared a newcomer. Howard's colossal frame filled the door behind Abbey. "You've got to get out there and work those tables. But I-" He swiftly lifted his niece from her arms. "-can take her."

"_Be careful,_ Howard!" hissed Ellie May. She instinctively rose from her chair, as if to save her daughter from the impending doom that was Howard Bondurant. "She's only just not able to really hold her head up. You've got to be gentle."

Abigail rolled her eyes as Howard stole Grace away, completely ignoring Ellie May. "Last time I checked, Howard Bondurant, you weren't my boss."

"Last time I checked, she wasn't your niece," he retorted, lifting baby Grace toward the ceiling and smiling at her. "Ain't that right, Gracie?"

"Howard!" Ellie May growled.

"At least brush your teeth if you're gonna breathe in her face like that," muttered Abigail as she fashioned her apron around her waist and headed toward the front.

"Why're you always aggravating folks, Howard?" Ellie May asked. "And, I swear, if you don't be more careful with her…"

"I ain't bothering nobody. Just wanted to spend some quality time with my favorite niece, is all. And ain't she a beauty..." Howard pressed his face into Grace's stomach, pressing a few kisses and blowing hot air. Grace made a few indistinguishable noises and squirmed in his grip.

"Those are cries of sheer terror, by the way," muttered Ellie May sarcastically with a snort, her daughter's eyes crinkling in joy at her uncle's antics.

"When's Forrest getting back?" asked Howard as he sat at his brother's desk, cuddling Grace to his chest. The four month old buried her face in his dirty shirt, unfazed by the stench of sweat, dirt, and booze.

"He should be back around lunch."

Howard said nothing but nodded. He watched his niece's tiny chest rise and fall with each breath. Her pale blue eyes were half-lidded, as if she were fighting sleep. One tiny fist was curled against his chest, the other splayed out. Everything about her was so tiny, especially compared to him. And she was so fragile.

Howard remembered how terrified they'd all been the day she was born. It happened so fast. One minute they're standing around the bon fire at the farm, the next Emmy's running outta the house screaming and Ellie May's cussing up a storm, "Shit, it hurts! Ooh, shit! It hurts like hell, it hurts so fucking bad! Make it stop!"

Poor Forrest was beside himself. It was the first time Howard ever recalled seeing his brother freeze up. He just stood there, starring as his wife waddled down the front porch, Jack on one side, Cricket on the other. It wasn't until their father nudged him and suggested, "Son, you 'ould'a do somethin'," that Forrest snapped to.

Because of the late hour, they forewent the hospital and went straight to Dr. Cobbs' home. Dorothy Grace met her parents just shortly after midnight with a fat, healthy scream and a steady stream of tears. But she wasn't the only one cryin'. Ellie May was swimming in her own tears, good ole Forrest and Papa even shedding a few silent tears.

Howard hadn't been home since the day Grace was born. That night he'd made the trek up the mountain to Penbrook and shared the news with his wife and watched as Lucy fell to her knees and wept. She was jealous, plain and simple. Lu couldn't grasp why God would grace Forrest and Ellie May with a baby but deny them the same joy.

"It's not fair," his wife had wailed.

"Life often ain't," Howard said quietly. And he stood there. Because, really, what else was there for him to do? Howard had learned long ago that when it came to her issues with having children, Lucy was inconsolable.

Grace yawned, her eyes finally falling shut as she began to drift off. Howard stroked her tiny back as she slept, Ellie May watching him with a small smirk. Grace looked just like his brother. Yep, that little girl was the spitting image of her daddy but she had her momma's eyes.

"Why don't you take her upstairs? Lay her down?"

Howard glanced up when Ellie May spoke. He patted Grace's back, his meaty finger tracing her arm. "She's fine where she is."

Ellie May smiled and stood, "Well, alright then." As she passed, she dipped to press a kiss to the back of her daughter's head, then pressed one on Howard's head, too. She instantly scoffed, her nose scrunching in disgust, "You smell like the wrong end of a horse. Take a bath…damn."

* * *

Ellie May woke from her nap to the already-familiar, piercing cry of her daughter. Withholding a groan, she threw back the quilt that cover her legs and slid off the couch. She'd been asleep for no more than twenty minutes.

"I didn't do it!" proclaimed Howard when she reached the bottom of the stairs. "She just started screamin', I swear."

"You're fine. She's probably just hungry. She wouldn't take this morning," mumbled Ellie May as she took her daughter into her arms. "Hey, baby girl, you hungry? You ready for some supper?"

And that was when Ellie May felt the wetness. "Oh, no. Not hungry, just tired of bein' wet, I suppose. You didn't feel that, Howard?"

"Feel what?"

Ellie May scoffed. "Nothing. Forrest back yet?"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Forrest walked through the door. "There he is," his wife crooned. She rocked Grace in her arms, the baby's wails vibrating off the restaurant windows. Turning her chest, she allowed Grace to face Forrest. "There's daddy. Just in time to help get you cleaned up, too."

Forrest didn't bother to hide his frown.

Upstairs, as Forrest washed Grace off with a wet cloth, Ellie May asked what had taken him so long at the farm that morning; he'd only needed to drop off a pair of clamps he'd used to repair a few chairs that broke the week before in a brawl downstairs. Forrest sighed, "Pop hurt himself again."

"What?" Ellie May gasped. "How bad?"

"Broke two fingers. He was fixin' a hole in the roof of the chicken coup and he _says_ the tiles slipped while he was hammering but, Ellie, I think he's losin' his sight."

"Shit, Forrest...at least it wasn't something more serious. His fingers'll heal in a few weeks."

"But what if it's something more serious next time? What happens when he loses a hand or breaks a hip?" asked Forrest as he finished fastening Grace's cloth diaper. He picked his daughter up from the bed and brought her to his chest, grinning at her like she was the sun.

"Well...Forrest, I know we were so eager before to get our own place and you know I love our home, even if a bar isn't the place to raise a child-"

"It ain't a bar. It's a restaurant," her husband corrected her.

"Oh, baby, it's a bar. It's just a bar that serves food nobody eats," snickered Ellie May. She paused a moment before growing somber. "I'm worried about Papa. Do you think...I mean, Jack and Emmy are still there but do you think maybe we should..."

"Move back?" The thought had crossed his mind a few times over the last two months. His father's health had been slowly declining and Forrest wondered if he ought to be there more to look after him. "I don't know, Ellie."

Ellie May crossed to her husband. She ran her hand up his arm and gazed at their daughter. Grace was opening and closing her mouth like a fish, seemingly wanting to speak but not quite grasping the concept of words yet. But she was a smart one, they could tell already. Forrest reckoned she'd been talking but ten months.

"I bet Grace would like growing up on a farm," murmured Ellie May softly.

Forrest affectionately cupped the soft ball of furriness that was his daughter's head, the little tuff of light brown hair like silk against his skin. He bet she would, too.

* * *

Something no one ever bothered to tell Ellie May was that breast feeding was a bitch and it hurt like hell. Every time Grace ate Ellie May walked away sore and tonight was no exception. It was all she could do not to hold her breasts and cry, but part of that might'a been the lack of sleep talkin'.

The County Line was already closed for the night and Ellie May went downstairs and made her way to the cooler to fetch a glass of pop. Howard and Forrest were holed up at a table near the bar playing cards. Forrest very rarely played but when he did he very rarely lost and, based on the piles of coins on the table top, tonight wouldn't be one of those rare nights.

She slid onto a bar stool nursing her drink and watched the game with a bored, half-interest, the ache in her nipples slowly fading. When Ellie May's glass was near empty, she turned to tell Forrest she was going to bed, her tone suggesting that he should join her, when a pair of headlights flashed in the window.

Two seconds later there was a pistol in Howard's hand, a shotgun in Forrest's. Ellie May slipped behind the bar but before Forrest reached the door, Danny Mitchell's voice split the Southern night air. "Foooorrest! Howaaard!"

Forrest threw open the door just as Danny reached the steps, taking them two at a time. "Have you lost your mind, Mitchell?" growled Forrest, the shotgun not entirely lowered. "In case you forgot, I got a little girl sleeping upsta..." Forrest trailed off as he noticed the crimson stains covering Danny's clothes. The whites of the eldest Mitchell's eyes were spiderwebbed red. He'd been crying. Hard.

With a look so full of despair that Forrest felt Danny was going to burst at any moment, Danny stepped forward and moaned, "They got 'em, Forrest. They got Gummy. They killed him. Forrest…they killed Gummy."

* * *

**Sorry if this one seemed a little all over the place. I know we jumped ahead quite a bit but I don't like filler chapters. Everything that happens in a story needs to have a point and this is where the story needed to go. **

**Such a cliff hanger right? Any ideas as to what Forrest and the gang will do now that Gummy's dead? **


End file.
